Beginnings and Ends
by Robin Birdie
Summary: Benjamin Winston Parker knew to be responsible. He knew to put his family first and never take risks, just as he knew that his sister put her life in harm's way on a daily basis, and yet he never acted. He would learn the greatest risk was inaction itself. ('Surprises and Starts' sequel - Complete)
1. Prologue

**Beginnings and Ends**

**Prologue**

"Good job Wade's not here!"

Spider-Man jumped off the roof, before he rolled across the cement. The wall behind him crumbled down too quickly for his tastes, which likely meant that the _rest_ of the shoddily built building would probably be coming down soon, too, and that was a problem. He mentally did a quick count of the floors. If he assumed that every floor was full, there were probably a good hundred or so people inside. That wasn't good. There was no way that he could risk the Rhino taking down a building like that. He needed a distraction.

"I mean," said Spider-Man, "do you _see_ the horn on your head? Now I'm too good to go and make the _obvious_ puns here, but there are some that would stoop that low. Well, maybe not _stoop_, but _gallop_ . . . wait . . . do rhinos gallop? Huh, guess they do!"

"You're dead, Spider-Man!"

The Rhino made a fast run straight for him. It was a relief, as it meant that the buildings were free from further damage, but that didn't mean that _he_ was safe from such damage. Spider-Man remained crouched where he landed, with fingertips placed on the rough ground, and toes balanced on the very edge of the kerb. There was a rather cold breeze blowing, which meant that most people would be wrapped up and off the streets, which was a huge relief, because a big bellowing _rhinoceros _was bad for anyone's health.

It was lucky that his senses meant that the Rhino appeared much slower than he would to any other person, but it was still too fast for his appeal. He mentally looked around and spotted the park nearby, which would likely be a lot safer for a fight of this scale, and – in this weather – there was much less risk of running into civilians, although the idea of spending even a _second_ more in this weather was torture in itself. The spandex provided zero protection from the cold and thin layer of ice, plus he _wished_ that he wore a cup, especially when he was starting to feel self-conscious from the cold. He sighed and shot a web across to the gates of the park. It took a quick movement to barely make it out the way.

'_You can't escape, Spider-Man! I'm quicker than you!'_

Spider-Man rolled his eyes beneath his mask; he landed on top of the gates with another crouch, as he watched how the Rhino charged forward, and – as he waited for the inevitable – he checked his wrist communicator for the time. It was one thing to lure Rhino into the park for damage control, but he _promised_ May and Benjamin that he would be back in time for their bedtime stories, and even Ellie was starting to glare at him when he came back late, accusing him of liking work more than his children. Heck, he was _nearly_ late to Benjamin's fourth birthday party just a week ago . . . he couldn't be late again!

The moment of distraction nearly cost him, but his spider-sense alerted him to danger just in time, so that he saw the Rhino aim for the gate before he reached it. Spider-Man shot another web far away and swung; _this time_ he was followed, so that he was forced to swing again and again, until he reached a picnic area. There were only one or two families nearby, which looked at him in awe and _not_ the terror that they should have felt. He sighed and waved dramatically for them to get out of the way. He could hear shouts from afar of his team.

"Everyone, get far away! _Now!_"

The families scattered, as he heard shouts from Nova about securing the area, whilst White Tiger called out about another criminal that was on their way, and – clearly – there was a divide between the team, with one half clearing the area and the other taking on whoever was stupid enough to attack. It left Spider-Man alone, but he had taken out far worse during his years active as a superhero. If the Rhino wanted a fight, Spider-Man was all the more willing to deliver . . . well . . . assuming he could get back in time to mark papers, not to mention reading to the children, and Wade _was_ complaining about feeling ignored.

"You look distracted, Spider-Man," said the Rhino.

"I'm just wondering why Smokey the Bear's cousin, Randy the Rhino, decided he would launch a campaign against _spiders_. Seriously, do you know how useful arachnids are? We kill all those _nasty_ little flies that you must get a lot, according to the smell, you know?"

"Keep talking, little bug! I'll crush you like I crush everything else!"

"Wait, did you say you're _crushing_ on me? Cute!"

"I'm going to enjoy this!"

Spider-Man smiled beneath his mask. The man was blatantly getting ready to charge, until he let out a piercingly loud roar and moved forward, and the movement was almost interesting to watch during the little show. There was a pull to the criminal's lips, as if he knew something that Spider-Man did not, and yet he wasn't smart enough to pull one over on Spider-Man, not least because – well – they were in the open now. It would just take a quick jump to the side, right as the Rhino took a running jump, to then deliver a diving kick and knock him off balance, and – after that – all that would be needed was a webbing to his limbs.

Spider-Man made to jump. He couldn't.

In a blind moment of panic, he looked down at his feet. There was something off about the ground, so that it was soft and sticky and a strange colouring, and he realised – as the revelation of horror hit – that the Rhino had been fighting around that area on purpose, _knowing_ that Spider-Man would head to the park . . . _knowing_ Spider-Man would do anything to avoid civilian causalities. There must have been pits like these all over the place, which probably would explain the incoming support of the criminal that kept his teammates busy, as one of them must have set this up. _Okay, incoming rhinoceros at ten o'clock. _He needed to think of _something_, as he was about to end up as bug paste.

He felt his heart beat rapidly. The healing factor was _by no means_ on par with Logan or Wade, whilst the Rhino was getting closer and closer by the second, and it felt as if his feet were _glued_ to the ground, whilst there was no shucking his shoes in a one-piece suit. He mentally cursed 'upgrading' his costume, as Tony put it, before he began to shoot out webs to slow the Rhino down, whilst the Rhino – charging so quickly – seemed to push back each and every one of them. A cold sweat broke over Peter, as he quickly signalled his team.

"Looks like our trap worked," growled the Rhino

"Er, guys! A little help -!"

Spider-Man pressed his communication device again. He felt his spider-sense scream at him, even as his felt his costume cling to his skin and feel uncomfortably wet around the armpits, and – as he felt faint and dizzy – he reminded himself of what he stood to lose. Ellie was doing so well at school, whilst Benjamin was literally crawling the walls, and May was so darned _happy_ repeating 'dada' like a mantra whenever she saw him. It didn't matter _how_ the trap was set or by _whom_ . . . what mattered was getting out of the trap.

He quickly shot a web to the nearest tree to his left, as he tried to pull himself out of the way, but the tree began to bend before he managed to get any leverage. He cast another glance – glad for his sense of perception that slowed down the movements, giving him more chances to act – and sent out another blast of web to a tree to the right, as he tied the two lines together and knelt down quickly. The Rhino would strike in a second. If he were lucky, the makeshift barricade would block the Rhino, but – if he were _unlucky_ – he also might break through it and even take the trees with him, and even _squish_ Spider-Man.

Spider-Man squatted and waited.

The barricade didn't hold up. The Rhino didn't go over him, like his galloping movements may have suggested, and he didn't stop in time. It was difficult to say what happened next, but Spider-Man felt that horn strike at his leg, before a searing and violent pain cascaded through him, and blinded him to everything else that followed. He felt himself ripped from whatever trap had been set, before he was thrown some considerable distance. There was the sound from afar of White Tiger calling out. He felt faint. He felt . . . weak.

'_Whoa! Don't move, all right? I – I got to make a tourniquet.'_

Spider-Man tried to look at his surroundings. The ground felt hard and uncomfortable underneath him, which was expected in the cold weather, but there was a warm feeling, too, something indiscernible . . . it was all over his thighs and lower back. In his dizziness and confusion, he wondered whether he released his bladder and felt a great deal of shame, but he was also cold and felt so weak, as if on the verge of fainting. The world spun around him, whilst his eyes wouldn't focus . . . he saw White Tiger next to him, but she looked somewhat red around her arms and was touching him . . . in the distance the Rhino roared.

There was a sudden numbness to his body, where he wondered whether he hurt himself, as – suddenly – shock appeared to set in and he could no longer feel the wound. He stirred and tried to sit up. It was next to impossible. White Tiger growled at him to stay put, whilst Iron Fist appeared on the other side of him, and suddenly they were talking over him, which was worrisome in itself . . . he tried to raise his legs, but his right leg felt something strange . . . it was hard to pinpoint what was wrong . . . _something_ was wrong.

'_Rhino . . . S.H.I.E.L.D. are . . . caught.'_

' _. . . need first-aid . . . staunch the limb, but . . . destroyed.'_

'_Do you . . . Reed or Stark? He could . . . tech.'_

Spider-Man focused enough pull his body up a few inches. It was a split second . . . just enough to see the damage and then collapse . . . the blood was everywhere, just as his legs were prone and damaged, but he could _see_ what was wrong. The feel of his right leg against _nothing_ had been real. The _numbness_ below the knee had been real. Spider-Man felt sick to his stomach, enough that he retched and choked . . . the mask was lifted just enough for him to vomit to the side. It clung to his cheek and hair.

He realised that the damage was permanent.

He had lost his lower left leg.

_He lost his leg_.

* * *

/*/*/* Line Break /*/*/*

May looked at him with pity.

It was hard not to be bitter, especially when he _loathed_ the way that suddenly he was nothing more than the 'victim', as if he were _defined_ by something beyond his control, something that would only affect his life would he let it. He knew _logically_ it would affect his life regardless, because there were just some things he wouldn't be able to do any longer, but . . . he could still be a father, a teacher, a researcher . . . he was still a man with feelings and thoughts. He wanted to be seen as a man _first_, with his disability as something _secondary_.

Peter sat back on the sofa with his legs up on the soft cushions. He remembered well Bruce's words that a 'transtibial prosthesis' would be far easier to become used to than the alternatives, and that a below-the-knee injury meant a quicker recovery time than above-the-knee, but the scientific terms and medical phrases were lost to him under the one daunting realisation: he would be disabled for life. The anger he felt was beyond his control, so that every day the very _sight_ of his missing limb felt offensive to him, and he still found himself dreaming at night of walking . . . running . . . jumping. He felt the same, but this – this missing limb . . . it – it was a constant reminder that he _wasn't_ the same.

The recovery process felt so lonely, especially when Wade only appeared a few times, which happened to be when he was still asleep after the anaesthesia, and – in the weeks that followed – his husband hadn't been seen _once_. It took all of Peter's strength to remind himself that Wade was essentially disabled himself, so he wouldn't _judge_ Peter for this, but then that thought only caused him a massive wave of guilt . . . did he have a right to complain? He felt that every tear and complaint and scream was an insult to every disabled person alive, as if he trivialised their concerns. _He hated himself for it_.

"Peter, you need to start walking."

"I – I know," muttered Peter. "I just . . . I just need a few more days, okay? The second I – I _walk_ on this – this _thing_ . . . it'll be _real_. I can't have this be real! I was supposed to be Spider-Man! So – so what now? This is the end of my career? I just leave my costume in a box in the basement labelled 'memories'? I'm supposed to have a healing factor, Aunt May! I – it – I mean -! Wade would have healed from this, but I – I can't even –!"

"You need to forget about Wade, Peter," said May kindly. "He isn't here and we don't know when he'll be back. I'm just glad you _do_ have a healing factor . . . it might not re-grow limbs, but it kept your organs going and stemmed the bleeding . . . it _saved_ you. Am I sad that you lost your leg? Of course! Am I happy I still have you? More than you'll ever know."

"I – I don't know how to feel! When I was bleeding out, all I could think about was how I wouldn't get to see Ellie or Mayday or Benjamin grow up . . . I wanted to live for their sake, but now I keep thinking how I'm _crippled_ and . . . and how will they deal with that?"

"It's okay to be angry, sweetie. It really and truly is okay."

"I want to wake up. I want this to be a dream."

"It's no dream, Peter."

He felt the tears before he felt the sadness. They washed over his face, even as he closed his eyes and tried to will it all away, and he drew in a choked breath for air. It felt like he had been crying all too much lately, especially when he _needed_ to keep the sadness away with the children so close, and so – every time they were away – he felt those repressed feelings and fears break through to the surface. He raised a hand to his face and felt the wetness on his skin, as well as how cold it was to the touch. It was difficult to breathe when his heart felt like it was in a vice, whilst the air began to feel suffocating.

The lounge felt much more quiet without the children, so that he almost wished Pepper would volunteer to baby-sit more often, but somehow their absence was all the more painful when he felt so alone . . . so much _half_ himself. Mayday's toys were scattered in front of the fireplace, whilst Ellie's homework was left on the table where she studied with Preston's son earlier, and Benjamin's drawing was glued to the wall – an idea of Wade's – where everyone could see. Peter wiped away a tear to give a nervous smile.

"Have you heard from Wade?" May asked.

He watched as his aunt sat on the edge of the sofa. The large bay windows allowed a stream of light to flow in from outside, whilst – across the road – he could hear Preston's car pull into her drive, and yet nothing could provide enough distraction. May sat at the far end of the sofa, where she reached out to touch his leg . . . the one that was still natural . . . he jerked his leg out of the way and turned his head to face the back of the sofa. It was enough to leave him feeling ashamed, as he loved his aunt dearly, but to be reminded of that -!

May issued a sigh and moved further up the sofa, so that she could instead rest a hand upon his arm, which – unlike his leg – resulted in Peter visibly relaxing, so that he let his head fall back against the pillow with a sigh of his own, even as a tear fell. It was hard to stop crying once he started, but he let her hold onto his arm and run her thumb in soothing circles, and – each time he tried to open his eyes – he saw her smiling sadly upon him, so that he felt a strange mixture of relief and frustration. He hated seeing her hurt, but he hated more that _he_ was the reason she was hurt . . . there was no fixing what was wrong with him. The tears stung his eyes and he drew in a staggered breath. _He hated this_.

"Where is Wade?" May asked.

"I – I don't know," muttered Peter. "I haven't seen him since the day of the accident. Coulson said that . . . well . . . he said that the day after the accident . . . they – they found the Rhino's _head_ in the Helicarrier. He – he wouldn't say – he wouldn't say _what_ condition the body was in, but . . . he said . . . whatever Wade did . . . it would have taken him _hours_. Wade hasn't killed anyone outside of self-defence since his mercenary days, Aunt May! I – I know he only did it to get revenge, because of what happened to me, but . . .

"He's been breaking into our house, too. I'll put the kids to sleep, but when I go upstairs I'll hear his voice behind their closed doors . . . they'll laugh and scream and joke . . . every time I open the door, though? He'll be gone! Benjamin and Ellie will tell me all about the games and pranks they've played, sometimes he'll apparently make up stories for them, but he's never _there_ when I go in! I can _feel_ him outside, too! I can feel him watching me through our bedroom window, but when I close the curtains . . . I – I wake up and they're _open_. _Every single morning_ there'll be a present on the pillow next to me, as if he's trying to tell me that he hasn't forgotten . . . that he still loves me . . ."

May looked down with a sad smile. It was difficult for him not to take the second to look across the room, where a bouquet of roses sat upon the mantelpiece of the fireplace, with each rose being left for each day that Wade remained absent. There were some mornings – where his eyes were raw and sore from crying, red and swollen also – that he could _swear_ that he could feel Wade's touch on his cheek, where the other side of the bed felt warm, and he would cry all over again. Peter looked back to May and blinked away the tears, as he smiled and nodded to her in acknowledgement. It was difficult for everyone.

"Wade is a complicated man," whispered May.

"I thought – I thought he'd _stopped_ all this! I – I never thought I would fall in love with him, but I thought . . . _two children, one proposal_ . . . doesn't that count for anything? I lost my _leg_, but he -! I need him. I need him and he's playing _games_."

"I don't think he sees it as game-playing," she said sadly. "He loves you more than anything in this world, but . . . nearly losing you was the most painful thing imaginable for me, because no parent should outlive their child, but for Wade it's more devastating. I know that one day I'll pass away and join you in the afterlife, but Wade – for all we know – _can't_ die, and that likely scares him. It would scare me. He'd have to live an eternity without you . . . _you_ . . . the only person to love him for him, the first person to see him for him . . ."

"I – I just wish he would tell me that . . . I – I need him . . ."

"He needs you, too."

Peter bit the inside of his lip. It hurt enough that soon he tasted blood, whilst a part of him could only think that if _this_ could heal then why couldn't a leg? 'The healing factor prioritises vital organs and functions' . . . it seemed like a bad excuse, like a bad dream . . . Wade wasn't born with his factor, what if Peter adapted his to match Wade's? What if they never had to fear being parted by death again? He wished that he could discuss his fears with Wade. He wished that he could have his fiancé by his side . . . he needed Wade.

"When will he be back?" Peter asked.

"Soon. Until then, let's get walking, shall we?" 

* * *

/*/*/* Line Break /*/*/* 

"Petey! Petey, please, just -!"

"_I hate you! I hate you, Wade! I hate you . . ."_

Peter struck over and over and over. It left his hand feeling bruised and sore, as he knew from experience – both in their personal and professional life – that Wade worked out to an extreme, so that the muscles of his chest were solid and unbreakable. Peter knew that he – unlike Wade – was far stronger, but then with Wade's healing factor . . . it was only a question of who would give in first . . . he couldn't stop hitting. He needed to let it out, because it was too much . . . Peter punched again and again.

"I hate you!"

The bedroom felt so cold with the bedroom window open, as the curtains blew about in the breeze from outside, and the muddy tracks from the window led straight to Wade . . . Wade . . . the man that was cast in shadow in the dark room. It was difficult in the night – with no lights on in the room – to see the other man, but he could see the chocolates trodden into the carpet and flowers smashed against the wall, so that petals fell down upon the bed. Wade tore off his mask and let it fall to the floor, even as Peter continued to strike and pound against him, and yet it was almost as if he didn't feel it at all. Peter began to sob.

He couldn't breathe. The pain and frustration and _fear_ all came rushing back, and the only thing that stopped him from _screaming_ was the fear of waking up the children. There was a faint pressure on his left knee, which was still difficult to get used to feeling, and he felt exhausted from simply lying in bed . . . too deep in sadness to dare close his eyes, to undress, to even crawl under the covers . . . he felt defined by routine. The only reason to get up each morning was to make sure the children were okay . . . to raise them and love them . . . he couldn't remember when he last did anything for himself, especially when everything in life suddenly felt dull and empty and meaningless. The sweat on his forehead fell into his eyes, stinging them and merging with the tears . . . he couldn't do this any longer.

"I hate you . . ."

Peter collapsed to his knees. He let his fists unfurl into a loose grip, as he slowly slid downwards, so that he lightly gripped the material above Wade's knees, and he allowed his head to rest against his fiancé's legs. There was a horrible feeling in his throat, so that his breathing became choked and broken, and soon he felt himself retching as he struggled to breathe through the cries, and his legs felt sore from kneeling . . . 'phantom pain' . . . Peter laughed sadly at the realisation there _was_ no pain in his left leg. He felt himself flush red, as he sobbed, and soon Wade sat down beside him . . . _holding him_.

"I need you," whispered Peter.

"You had Bruce," said Wade sadly. "He fixed your leg up good and proper, didn't he? I came by when you were asleep a lot, had a few questions of my own to ask, and he promised me that you were on enough goofballs to make even a guy like _me_ feel no pain."

"_I lost my leg, Wade!_ I-it wasn't just – just the physical pain, it was . . ."

"The pain in your heart, too? You had May for that."

"I didn't need fucking May! I needed _you_!"

Peter shot both hands over his mouth. It was difficult to process the fact that he just swore, but more difficult still to process the fact that he just insulted his _aunt_ in the process, especially as she was the very woman that was a _mother_ to him for so long. He looked at Wade in absolute horror, as he saw the sheer shock on the other man's face. This – this wasn't _him_ . . . Peter wasn't this angry man . . . this _monster_. It was no wonder that Wade kept his distance, because Peter couldn't even look at himself any more . . .

It was difficult to control the shaking, as he struggled to breathe. He felt his eyes run dry and his body ran cold, just as he wondered how long since he slept and when the nightmares would end, and suddenly he realised that he couldn't do this alone. There was a grieving process . . . grief for the man he once was, as well as a need to redefine himself in the face of this change, and he couldn't process that alone . . . he needed time to cry and scream and _feel_, but without Wade to support him . . . Peter let his hands fall to his lap. He looked sadly at them with an empty smile, until Wade took them in his and held them tight.

"I needed _you_," Peter whispered.

Wade let his hands move from those hands, whereby he grabbed Peter in a fast and hard hug, and yanked the younger man into his lap. It was enough to make Peter weep. He let his arms wrap around his fiancé's waist, as he buried his head into his neck, and he let himself simply _feel_ as he caught familiar scents of Mexican food and lotions, and felt the rough skin that he knew so well and so intimately. Wade felt so warm against him, so firm and real, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap up next to him in bed and _forget_ his pain.

"I'm sorry, Petey," muttered Wade.

"I – I thought – I thought maybe you were _gone_," cried Peter. "I – I'm never going to be the same again, Wade! I've had to learn to _walk_ again. I – I've had to – to give up – to give up being . . . being Spider-Man. He was my _identity_. I felt . . . _useful_ when I was him. I could _help_ people. I – I thought maybe you weren't interested any longer . . . I can't be as a-attractive with a limb missing, plus you _idolised_ Spider-Man . . ."

"That ain't it, Petey! Yeah, Spidey was my role-model, but _you're _Spidey! You shouldn't have to hide behind a mask like I do, 'cause you ain't this freak . . . I know what I am; I'm ugly, I'm deformed, I'm crazy -! You? You're this hot babe with a quarter I could bounce an ass off – wait, is that right? – and you're smart, too! You got this great moral code, where you don't kill anyone, even if they're totally asking for it! You're always nice to me, too, even when you used to kick my butt back in the day! I haven't lost a Spidey! I gained a Petey!"

"It – it's not the same! I could _be_ someone behind the mask! I could speak my mind and make jokes . . . I didn't have to _hide_ my strength . . . I could _use_ my mind to improve my web-shooters and formulate plans and -! W-what do I do now? I can't . . . I can't be that confident without my mask, I just can't . . . I haven't got any kind of –"

"Escape? Yeah, well! You don't need a mask to be yourself! I _know_ what it's like, baby boy! I couldn't be without my mask either, and – yeah – it sucked Donkey Kong's balls, but if _you_ love me with a mug like this -? Loving you will be easy! You're my Pocket Petey!"

"I'm – I'm nearly as tall as you are! I was a teenager when we met!"

"Yeah, yeah, any excuse! Still, I love _all_ of you!"

"Even with a _piece_ missing?"

Wade let a hand rest on Peter's head, where it buried itself deep into his hair and held him impossibly close against Wade. It was oddly relaxing to find his scalp massaged gently, as Wade breathed heavily against his head and warm tufts of air rolled over him, and he could even feel his partner's heartbeat through his costume. Peter slowly began to calm down and let a strange form of numbness overcome him, so that he simply _existed_ in Wade's arms and nothing more . . . he felt safe . . . no pain and no judgement.

"I want to tell you why I ran away," said Wade.

There was a soft murmur from Peter, as he pulled back a little to try and look up at Wade, but – when he looked through the darkness – all he could see was the look of complete exhaustion that covered the other man's face. It was almost disconcerting to see, because Wade had a healing factor that made tiredness a moot point, unless he was acting particularly reckless or had a lot to heal from . . . Peter drew in a sharp breath and shook his head.

"Okay," he said sadly. "Okay."

"Hey, it ain't like I was _trying_ to hurt you! I just -! I got _scared_, all right? You aren't supposed to die! You're the protagonist! You're in the annual team-up specials with yours truly! You're the type to rework time or come back from the dead or -!"

"We all get scared, Wade . . . I – I was _terrified_ when I first found out about Benjamin, but I – I didn't just run away! I _wanted_ to, but I _didn't_! I s-stood tall and I – I dealt with it, because that's what adults _do_! I had a responsibility . . . you have responsibilities, too! It's – it's not fair that Preston had to keep the children whilst I recovered in Stark Tower, or that –"

"_You aren't supposed to die!_ Your heart fucking stopped at one point, Petey! _It stopped! _I ain't ever loved anyone like I loved you . . . 'Ness was complicated, Shiklah was a spontaneous thing _and_ complicated . . . most everyone else never loved me back, was just sex _and_ complicated -! You were always different, Petey! When we fought, you fought me like an equal and without pulling punches. When we were friends, you paid me respect and paid me _thanks_ . . . no one ever thanked me before you!

"This healing factor's a bitch. Logan is like a _million_ years old, but I'm not strong enough to live that long and like that! I was way in love with death, but I know now that I got people to depend on me and people worth living for, but eventually all those people are going to die and I'll have to make new people -! Well, new friends! I don't want to make new people unless it's with you! Okay, where was I? Yeah, you – you can't die! You can't! It's like when you died, all my hope died with it! I can't raise the kids alone! I'm no good for them! I won't ever find anyone that'll love me like you do, but I don't _want_ to! I want you and the idea of losing you -! I – I just couldn't cope with that, all right? I'm weak! There! I said it!"

"You – you didn't _lose_ me, Wade!" Peter cried. "I never _went_ anywhere! I was just – I was just _waiting_ for you and you -! You _could_ have lost me . . . you still could . . . _I needed you and you just ran away! _I – I can get that you were upset, but it was _my_ leg that ended up in a biohazard bin somewhere! You – you could have trusted me . . . t-told me how you felt . . . we – we could have gotten past this together. I love you. I need you."

"I'm sorry, Petey! I'm back now! I killed the Rhino! I made him suffer for -!"

"Do – do you think I _wanted_ him to suffer . . . t-to die?"

"Probably not?"

Peter pulled away and felt weak. The idea that a man good have _died_ in his name made him sick to his stomach, but worse still was the idea that Wade would have thought that Peter could have _wanted_ that . . . that he could _forgive_ that. He felt light-headed, whilst a horrible sensation of pins and needles washed over his skin, and suddenly spots appeared before his eyes . . . the fear of fainting only increased his anxiety, making the situation worse, and he was forced to hold onto Wade for support. He felt broken.

"You once promised me that you'd never let me go," said Peter.

"Trust me to make that promise again?" Wade asked.

Peter felt a sense of absolute dread. The truth was that Wade would make that promise time and time again, each time meaning it with sincerity in his voice, and – Peter knew – Wade _meant _that promise and would _never_ intentionally break it, but . . . he inevitably would. There was always _something_ that would come along to scare his fiancé, just as there would always be something to cause him grief and pain, and Wade _still_ couldn't deal with those feelings, just as he still felt a need to run from the things that scared him.

They sat in silence for a while, until he realised that Wade was waiting for an answer. Peter smiled sadly and stood up slowly, before he struggled to remember the difference in feeling and weight to his left leg . . . the pressure and difference in balance . . . and nearly fell, before he corrected himself and glared down at the offending prosthetic. Bruce assured him that it wouldn't be a problem in time, but then such promises felt as empty as Wade's, promises meant to reassure and only broken . . . it was too painful to contemplate. Still, there was only one answer to the question of whether he could trust Wade:

"I always do . . ."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

'_Sightings of the Goblin continue . . .'_

Benjamin looked to the screen curiously. There were clear photographs and video images of the Goblin, as well as panicked interviews with the survivors, but – frankly – he found it strange that anyone would want to take up such a mantle. The costume looked like it was designed for someone of an entirely different shape and size, whilst the reporter seemed more concerned with footage of the original Goblin than his successor, and it wasn't as if there was anything that could be done from simply watching a report. Benjamin sighed.

He reached out to the television on the corner of his desk, where he turned down the volume and tried to focus on his drawings and designs, which were scattered about the table in a pattern that probably looked like chaos to anyone else. The mirror above his desk reflected back the window and bed behind him, whilst the door to his right was on the same wall as his desk, and – all in all – it left him with perfect knowledge and sight of anyone entering, even if they chose the window to do so. It was a small room, but he liked it that way. There was just enough space for the katana swords on the wall to his far right, given to him as a present by his dad, and enough space for his artworks and posters . . . he didn't need anything else.

'_Benji! You want dinner?' _Wade shouted from outside.

"No! I'm busy! I have a few designs that I want to sketch out!"

'_Yeah, and I have a big zit on my ass that needs popping! I still got to eat, though! You spend way too much time in that room! I'm not saying that design isn't cool and stuff, but – unless you're sketching me a new uniform – you got to come eat! I haven't seen you all day!'_

"Like I want to eat after zit-talk! Besides, I came out at one o'clock!"

'_Fuck, Benji! It's six o'clock now!'_

Benjamin felt a sense of cold dread wash over him. The last thing he remembered was what felt like ten minutes ago, where his other father argued with him about his bad grades and obsession with art, before storming out and demanding that Benjamin remember to eat something for lunch, as he hadn't been out of his room since . . . since breakfast. _Shit_. It was no wonder that he felt so light-headed and his hand felt so cramped, but – at the very least – his other father would be in his office right now . . . out of the way.

He stood up and swayed a little in his movements, before he looked down at his latest piece of work, and gave a sincere smile as he lightly touched the page with his fingertips. There wasn't quite a name for it yet, but he realised it looked far too much like Deadpool's costume, without enough personal touches . . . he debated whether to incorporate aspects of another superhero, but he kind of liked the simplistic design. He decided to add a pattern to the mask and arms, as well as maybe a logo to the chest, but that could come later, as – for now – he needed to eat _something_ to stop his dad from worrying, especially as he knew that Wade would be outside the door just _waiting_ for him to come out.

He gave a sigh and ran a hand through his mussed up hair, before he caught sight of himself in the mirror and saw the black bags beneath his brown eyes, which wasn't too mention how sunken his cheeks looked after weeks of designing non-stop. It was hard to look at himself for too long, even if his dad argued he looked 'just like Andrew Garfield' and 'a hotter version of me'. He didn't quite hate what he saw, but it was hard not to pick faults when everyone else around him looked so . . . well . . . better? Benjamin shook his head and rolled his neck, as he pulled down the sleeves to his hooded top.

'_You get sleepy when you don't eat! Can't draw sleepy!'_

"I know, I know! I lost track of time and -!"

Benjamin looked down and laughed. He could see little slices of pizza being shoved underneath his door, where cheese was beginning to stick to the wood and sauce was staining the carpet, and – to save his room from ants or mice – he ran a few steps to the door and opened it up, only to see his dad crouched down. Wade looked up with a beaming and beautiful smile, before he offered him the box in both hands, as he kept on one knee and Benjamin picked the slices off the floor to put back inside.

"You'll make me the happiest man alive, if you say 'yes'!"

"Yes," Benjamin said with a laugh. "Yes! A thousand times 'yes'!"

Wade stood up and smacked Benjamin lightly on his head with the box, before he shoved it into his arms and – from the pocket of his own hooded top, only red in place of Benjamin's blue – he dropped a chocolate bar on the lid. A second later, he pulled out a carton of juice from a pouch tied around his waist, before he dropped that onto the lid, too. He then glanced over Benjamin's shoulder into his room . . . 'organised mess' as Benjamin often argued . . . before he then looked over Benjamin and made some sort of mental assessment. He smiled again and flicked the teenage boy on his forehead a little painfully.

"Fruit juice is healthy, right? It's fruit."

"Er, I don't think so," said Benjamin. "Too much sugar."

"Ah, well, least it isn't beer or poison or something. You just eat up and try to get some sleep, okay? I'd cut the electric to your room, but you'd probably work by moonlight or something, plus I ain't that mean! Your dad's planning to vacuum _way_ early in the morning though, just as a head's up! No one likes that shit when they were up until – like – three, so sleep up! I'll try to cut the electric, if I can . . . can't vacuum, then!"

"Thanks, Pops. I promise I'll eat as much as I can. Just – just tell Dad that I came out and ate dinner downstairs, okay? I – I can't be dealing with him on my back. I'll tell him that the scratches on the car were from Uncle Tony, if you cover for me! Please, Pops?"

"Sold to the highest bidder! Also, tell May that she's grounded, okay?"

"Grounded? What is she grounded for this time?"

"You'll see, Benji-dear!"

There was a tip of Wade's cap, before he lowered it suspiciously downwards. It covered his brown eyes and hid the worst of his scars from view, whilst the smile on his lips was almost devilish, and – if May had messed up again – there were probably 'presents' left in her room that would equate to 'traps' according to anyone else. Still, Benjamin had yet to work out just _how_ his dad always knew what they were up to before _anyone else_ ever did, and he watched him suspiciously head down the corridor to the humming tune of 'Fly on the Wall'.

Benjamin kicked his door shut and headed inside. He placed the pizza down on the bed and jumped up with crossed legs, before he shoved the chocolate and fruit onto his bedside table, next to a photograph of himself with Tony, Pepper and Bruce. The photograph next to it featured himself with Wade, whilst the camera-shy man tried to knock away the camera, and both caused him to smile at the sight of his favourite people, before he let his face fall into a frown about how much of a burden he inadvertently became. He looked at the pizza on the bed and realised that _he_ should have been making his food, not his parents . . .

'_\- damage is severe. The casualties are currently unknown, but rough estimates say that seventy workers were inside the headquarters of _The Bugle_ at the time of the attack, with exact numbers currently withheld by the local police. We report more of the Goblin's –'_

"Bullshit. Send in the Avengers, sheesh!"

Benjamin shot out a web to grab the remote control from his desk, before he flicked off the television and threw the remote across the room to the closet opposite him. It struck hard at the white wood, before it shattered and the pieces fell to the floor, and Benjamin mentally winced as he realised that he _still_ needed to get used to the strength that came with his mutant abilities. There was the possibility that he could ask his other father to help him, as their abilities were so similar, but he had yet to actually get around to it. Still, Peter wasn't as strong as he was and he lacked the ability to shoot webs as he did, so there were some things that he would need to learn alone anyway . . . unless he asked Wade.

He was midway through his meal when he heard a noise at the window. Benjamin froze and glanced to the mirror to his right, mainly due to force of habit, but he couldn't see anyone or anything except the darkness. See, _this_ was why they needed _real_ heroes! It felt like groups such as the Avengers or Fantastic Four were more concerned with 'bigger' problems, but no one cared about the neighbourhoods or the general population . . . Benjamin wished so hard that someone would _help_ them, just like those the Goblin attacked . . .

'_Benjamin? Yo, are you up? You're always up!'_

"Er, is that a prowler? I don't answer to prowlers."

'_Hey! If I were a prowler, I'll go out on a limb and say I'd _be_ on the limb. You know the tree outside your window has a great shot inside your room, plus with the mirror opposite the window – stupid idea, by the way – I can see you eating pizza on your bed. Dad's so going to kill you! You're supposed to eat dinner with the family and -!'_

"_What_ family? You're always out! Dad never eats with -! Look, where _are_ you, anyway?"

'_Sheesh! You don't have a sixth-sense at all, huh? Look outside!'_

"The window again? Why _my_ room?"

Benjamin swung his legs over the bed, before he marched to the window. He couldn't see anyone at all, but – when he opened the windows – he looked out and saw his sister clinging to the wall just beneath the ledge. It was difficult to look at her and not feel a twinge of annoyance, especially when he felt so hungry and had so much work to do, but clearly she had broken curfew again and felt the need to involve him. He couldn't just turn his back on her, but he didn't want to support her rule-breaking either.

It took only a second for May to climb in. It took only a second more for her to run to his bed, jump upon it, and then steal a slice of pizza for herself. He contented himself to falling back into his desk chair, as he immediately started to finish his designs with the focus that he found so natural when it came to the art he was so passionate about, and May simply contented herself to eat his dinner. It wasn't that he minded sharing his space, but he valued his privacy and cherished his space, and it felt almost violating in a way to have May and Peter always entering without asking . . . he tried to push it from his mind, but it was difficult when even his _food_ had been taken from him. He sighed and rubbed at his nose.

"My room's windows are too small," said May.

"Well, Pops says to tell you that you're grounded," he muttered.

May let out a sound that was something between a groan and scoff, before she closed the lid of the box and snatched up the juice to drink. It took all his self-control not to roll his eyes, before he looked across to her briefly, where he spotted that she was dressed in an ankle-length coat with the _weirdest_ boots that he ever remembered seeing. They were just _so_ familiar, but he couldn't quite remember what book or documentary that he must have spotted them, and – as fashion was his life – it was a little humiliating to admit.

"What are you wearing, anyway?"

There was a sound downstairs of the smoke-alarm, followed by a curse that he daren't repeat, and then a lot of shouting from what sounded like his other father . . . Benjamin wondered whether it was a staged distraction to let May make it back to her room, but May was clearly hiding something and more content to beam brightly at him in unrestrained pride. He heaved a sigh and turned around to face her directly, as he placed his forearms onto his knees and hunched his back. If she had done something wrong, it would only stress his parents out.

It was then that she jumped to her feet and opened her coat. The huge patches of blue really brought out her eyes of the same colour, whilst the red boots and gloves and chest oddly looked like they belonged and almost complemented each other, and he realised then just _why_ it was so familiar. The web pattern . . . the mask shoved into a pocket . . . the skin-tight spandex that went against his sister's usually modest style . . . t-that was the costume of Spider-Man! _The_ Spider-Man! Benjamin remembered finding his costume in an old book once and spent a weekend just researching the guy, and that was _his_ costume! Oh God, if she _stole_ an outfit from some supercharged web-warrior -! She could be in _danger_!

"W-where did you _get_ that?" Benjamin asked.

"It was in a box marked 'memories' down in the basement," said May.

"What were you _doing_ in the basement, May? You're supposed to get _me_ whenever you want anything from down there! It's too dangerous and I'd be wracked with guilt if you -! W-wait, what was a suit like that doing in _our_ basement? You sure you have the right basement?"

"How many basements do we have? It all makes so much _sense_ now, though! If you think about it, didn't Spider-Man go on a hiatus during when Dad was pregnant with you? Then Spidey started acting _totally_ weird until not long after your birth, but Pops is a _massive_ Spider-Man fan and teamed up with him all the time, so he could have easily borrowed his costume! Oh, and my powers are _exactly _like Spider-Man, except the web-shooters, but I found _mechanical_ shooters in the box, too! You're good at mechanics, right? Want a look?"

"N-no! Dad will kill me . . . I'm supposed to be getting my grades up, not -! _Stop doing that!_ You always distract me from big issues! Look, you just -! Spider-Man is _not_ Dad! Spider-Man told jokes and made wisecracks, but Dad's so _serious_. He lost his leg, too, May! It's not exactly something you can hide in _spandex_. Spiders don't limp."

"Didn't he lose his leg _right_ when Spider-Man disappeared?" May asked. "Plus, it's surprisingly easy to tell jokes behind a mask, although I get so nervous when I got into a fight dressed like this! I was all stuttering and stuff, but Dad made it look so _easy_ in videos!"

"Oh God, do you think that's _how_ he lost his leg?"

"Who knows? I'm not going to ask!"

Benjamin threw himself back into his chair. He thought back to his other father and how strict he was over the years, not to mention how he _pushed_ and _pushed_ for them to do well at school, as well as tried to get them to hide their abilities. It made sense, in a way. Peter would have lost a whole part of his identity, which meant that he would have wanted his children to have skills they could use and fall back upon, but why would he make it seem as if their mutant powers were something to be _ashamed_ about? Ben looked to his wrist sadly.

It was also such a huge betrayal of trust . . . his dad always told them everything, even going so far as to teach May how to defend herself and how to fight, but Peter always seemed so opposed to violence and fighting. Okay, that was in line with Spider-Man's beliefs against such things, too, but what was there to hide? Peter wasn't ashamed of being Spider-Man, was he? How _could_ he be so ashamed of his powers when he was a freaking_ superhero_? Oh God, the city _needed_ a hero, too, and how often had Benjamin wondered why no one stepped up into the position or questioned why no one did anything, whilst Peter had answers all along and knew firsthand what it meant to be a hero? Didn't he trust Benjamin? Didn't he care about the city? Why did he hide this for so long? This – this was _Spider-Man_!

Benjamin felt cold all over, but a glance to the window only reminded him of how large the city was and how many millions of people needed someone to help them, and – whilst he wasn't strong enough to _be_ that hero – his father once was a name the people could depend upon. It was difficult to resolve such a conflict in his mind . . . he always assumed Peter was ashamed of his son that struggled to keep up at school, especially when he was the science teacher, but what if he was _really_ ashamed that he had a son with mutant abilities . . . a son that wouldn't and couldn't use those powers for any real good? Benjamin swallowed hard.

"Why do you think he kept it secret?"

"How should I know?" May asked. "All I know is that spandex is like a body-wedgy that leaves _nothing_ to the imagination! Do you think I need to lose weight? I think I need to lose weight. I'm just glad I'm not a guy! How would you hide . . . _you know_?"

"I – I mean . . . didn't he _trust_ us. This is such a major part of his life!"

"You should know by now that Dad's like a closed book."

"Not to mention you stole his costume!"

He looked to May and glared at her. It was difficult to stay too angry, because – despite being fifteen – she often was the one that was a little naïve and all too carefree about most things in their lives, so it was likely she didn't realise how much of a violation it would be to have one's identity _stolen_. Benjamin raised a hand to his face, knowing how similar he looked to his dad, and yet how different they were . . . no one really remembered Benjamin anyway, but it was still _his_ life and _his_ face. He shuddered to think that could be taken from him.

"He wasn't using it," said May casually.

"T-that's not the point!" Benjamin groaned and titled back his head. "A superhero's mask is a part of their _identity_, it's an extension of themselves, and most – like Pops – are _more_ themselves in their mask than without. If you steal his mask, it's like you're stealing his face. I – I know Dad loves you a lot, just as he's always telling you about responsibility and duty, and I know he's your hero, so -! Well, try to think how he'll _feel_ about this."

"Remember when Dad told you to remember _you're_ not the parent here? You're my brother, _not_ my dad! Just support me! Dad would _really_ want this for me! He used to help keep the streets safe and help people, it's about time that someone stepped in to fill the gap!"

"W-what? Oh God, no! No, May! You can't be serious!"

"Say hello to Spider-Girl!"

Benjamin collapsed forward and dropped his head between his legs. In a strange moment of detachment, he realised that he was wearing his dad's jeans that fit him pretty perfectly, and that he was lucky to get Wade's height and build, but – in another moment – he realised that even his _clothes_ weren't his own. It was no wonder that May wouldn't _listen_ to him, because every time he spoke it sounded as if he were speaking with someone else's voice . . . he didn't know who he was any more, but he knew he had a _responsibility_.

He let his eyes fall to an ink stain on the carpet, as he tried to think about _how_ the best way to approach this would be . . . May could be as flippant and dismissive as Wade, but she was as stubborn and focussed as Peter . . . once she put her mind to something, she wouldn't listen to anyone and would chase her goal passionately. It was easy to admire her dedication, as well as her talents academically and athletically, but sometimes he wished that he _knew_ Peter's secret to dealing with May. The very last thing he wanted to do was to tattle on her, but he couldn't let her get into trouble! She was his baby sister!

"Do you remember what Dad always says?"

"To never pull Pops' finger? To not annoy Ellie at work?"

"No! _'With great power comes great responsibility'_," said Benjamin. "Pops would _break_, if anything happened to you . . . I've seen him just randomly _quit_ missions midway through, _just_ to get back here to see you! Hell, the highlight of Dad's day is breakfast, just _because_ he gets to hear you tell him all about school and life, and I've seen him pick up his phone during class when you were sick . . . just in case you needed him."

"Okay, but you're being _selfish_! If I can help people, _which I can_, shouldn't I do anything that I can to help them? I stopped a mugging on the way back home alone! Okay, Dad will probably be _peeved_, but I can help make the city so much _better_! Don't I have a responsibility to the people? Aren't they more important than just _one_ person?"

"You have a responsibility to your _family_! We love you!"

"I have to do this!" May argued.

They remained in silent for a long while. Benjamin stood up and placed his chair under his desk, whilst May began to pace in a way all too familiar, and – despite her superficial similarities to their dad – she struck him as _so_ similar to their other father. He watched her as she moved with a grace that he could never mimic, and she seemed so _alive_ as she strode in frustration, and he almost envied her for that passion in life she felt. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that way, with his art only a distraction these days from his indifference. It was hard to think of a life _without_ his sister in it.

"What about the Goblin?" Benjamin asked.

May stopped pacing and looked to him with confusion. It was hard to look at that those blue eyes and not think of their father, but he held back an urge to point out how much he _hated_ that look, as if either one of them were remotely aware of how condescending it seemed. Instead she sighed and then let out a moan of frustration, as she stormed past him and jumped up to sit on the windowsill. May leaned back in a way that made him scared she would fall.

"Why would he come after me?" May asked.

"You're dressing like Spider-Man! The Goblin hated -!"

"Spider-Man! Yeah, but that was _decades_ ago! Deadpool killed the Goblin!"

The cold breeze that ran through the bedroom was not enough to keep him alert, and his exhaustion and hunger was starting to make his concentration fall. He barely had time to notice the way she executed a familiar move, or the web that shot across to the roof of the house opposite, and he knew that – if he chose to make a move to stop her – she'd be gone before he even took a step in her direction. He felt dizzy and tired, even as he raised a socked foot to scratch at his leg and ran a hand sleepily through his hair.

"Look, I'm heading back out," she said. "Cover for me, okay?"

"M-May, you need to listen to me! You –!"

May was gone. He barely had time to comprehend it, before he ran to the window and saw her swinging throughout the neighbourhood . . . her coat was on the patio outside, whilst her mask was pulled on . . . he slammed his hands down onto the windowsill and swore loudly. It was just too dangerous for May to be out on the streets! The Goblin was a real threat, whilst May had _no_ experience with weaponry or fighting beyond self-defence, and she lacked a healing factor. He hoped her senses would help, as well as her heightened perception.

"If the Goblin follows you whilst dressed like that . . ."

'_Benjamin? Are you decent? I'm coming in.'_

"Fuck!"

He managed to quickly spin around before the door opened. It was obvious that he looked far too 'innocent' to be such, but he pushed his hands into the pockets of his hooded top and looked down at the floor. The wind behind him blew at his hair, whilst he heard an alarm go off in the distance, and he drew in a shaking breath and tried to avoid looking at his father, until he heard his father cough loudly and felt obliged to look at him out of respect. He hoped the panic didn't show on his face, even as he smiled as best as he could kindly.

Peter looked nearly as tired as Benjamin felt, although he pulled it off a lot better when he looked a lot healthier and hadn't skipped multiple meals in the past few days, and his clothes were a lot better fit than the baggy ones Benjamin preferred. He could see his father was dressed in his suit still, although he lost the tie and the top few buttons were undone, and there was a streak of grey in his hair that aged him beyond his years, although they both knew that he was middle-aged and – unless he was willing to adapt his healing factor – that eventually he would look far older than Wade, despite being younger.

It was also hard to miss how _pissed_ he looked. He saw the way his father's eyes narrowed darkly on a spot behind him, whilst the heavy heave of his chest was hard to miss, and Benjamin winced a little and looked away in shame. Benjamin realised that his father was probably overworked, as well as worried about May being missing _again_, but it was hard to feel too sorry for him when he was on the receiving end of that glare yet again. He turned around and closed the window, before he shrugged indifferently at his father.

"Why was your window open?" Peter asked.

"I just wanted some fresh air," said Benjamin. "Warm, you know?"

"Is that -? Is that _pizza_ on your bed? I thought I told you –! You can't keep _neglecting_ your health for your hobbies, Benjamin; it's not healthy! If I have to tell you one more time -!" Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where's your sister?"

"Pops said she's grounded. You'd probably be better off asking him."

"I'm not asking him. I'm asking you."

Benjamin closed his eyes tightly. He remembered what his uncle, Bruce, said about counting to ten in his mind . . . it shouldn't have been a surprise that Peter's priority was May, just as it shouldn't have been a surprise to be spoken to in such a manner, but he _hated_ that he could be disrespected and just expected to take it. He needed to think of an answer that would get Peter to leave him alone and yet not betray his sister, but he didn't want to _lie_, because – even if he didn't respect his father to some degree – he knew he would be caught out. He settled for a half-truth instead and tried not to look to the window in a way to give him away.

"Breaking curfew," he muttered.

"Great, so she snuck in to steal some food and snuck back out? You're her older brother, Benjamin, you need to _act_ like it! You can't keep letting her sneak out like this! Next time I find you enabling her, _you'll_ be grounded, too. It's dangerous! I won't see either of you hurt. I won't see either of you -! I nearly lost you during the pregnancy . . . you guys nearly lost me when I had my accident . . . hasn't this family had enough near misses?"

"If May were here, she'd argue that you're trying to _control_ everything," said Benjamin. "I get that you're scared of losing us, but you can't wrap us in cotton wool . . . I love May, too; don't you think I'd _tell_ you, if she were in danger? _I_ don't keep secrets."

"Benjamin, I don't need the attitude! Just tell your sister she's in trouble."

"How? You can see that she's not here."

Peter shook his head angrily. It was enough that Benjamin wanted to _scream_ at him 'I know', just to see whether Peter would tell him the truth about his past, or even _how_ he could advocate living a 'normal' life and being 'safe' when he used to spend his nights prowling the city as a superhero. Benjamin clenched the windowsill hard as he could, whilst Peter's lip pursed and then trembled, until Peter eventually released a heavy breath and walked slowly to the door, as Benjamin's hand held onto the edge distractedly.

"I'm just worried," said Peter.

"You're _always_ worried."

The door slammed shut before Benjamin heard a reply. He looked up to see that Peter was just _gone_, without so much as a goodbye or a single word, and – whilst Wade would argued that it was out of respect and a need to give Benjamin space – it felt like a rejection. He felt like Peter just couldn't be bothered to argue with him, because he just wasn't _worth_ arguing with, unlike Wade or May or Tony . . . Benjamin slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his legs. He tried not to worry about May, but he couldn't help it.

"You're just never worried about _me_," he muttered.

A sad sigh came from behind the door.

Benjamin didn't hear it.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Benjamin stepped back with a smile.

The costume was beginning to look _just_ like his plans. He cast a quick glance down to his right, where the sketches and designs were laid out in full, and then looked back up to the dressmaker's dummy. It was crammed between the doors to the closet and the edge of his desk, practically in the corner – the desk itself took up much of the corner – and he begrudged the lack of space in his room and the inability to put it elsewhere. He felt a spark of pride that he _could_ achieve such a good result with so little room.

It was harder to create the costume than he expected, but it worked out better than he anticipated. The sleeves from the elbow downwards, as well as the mask itself, were made from a spandex material with the same design and web-pattern as Spider-Man, whilst the body and upper arms were a leather in the pattern and style of Deadpool, save for a large imprint of a spider upon the chest. He made sure to incorporate pouches around the waist, just as he made sure to create braces across the chest to properly support the katana swords, which – he would embarrassingly admit – he took from his wall to change their function from decoration into weaponry. He even left little holes on the wrist for his webbing.

He ran a hand through his hair and gave a yawn, before he glanced to his wristwatch and spotted that it was around three in the morning, which meant that he had been working for over twelve hours without a break . . . his father would kill him. Benjamin shook his head and stretched his body. The t-shirt he wore exposed the bruises to his wrists, whilst his sleeping bottoms fell low enough to make him feel self-conscious even in his room alone, and – as he felt a need for sleep strike deep – he heard a tapping noise that he couldn't quite place. It was a familiar sound . . . a tap mixed with a rattle . . . he turned around to look for a cause.

A familiar face appeared at his window.

Benjamin drew in a harsh breath and stormed to the window. The sight of one 'Spider-Girl' was a sight he was all too used to seeing lately, and it was nothing short of a miracle that she remained nothing more than a rumour in the papers. There were no photos of her yet, but it was only a matter of time, and it was even less time before their father evidently caught her sneaking into the house in _costume_. He swung open the window with a sharp glare, but to his surprise May only raised a hand for support. Benjamin bit his lip nervously.

"It's not like you to ask for help," he muttered.

It took only a moment for May to grab his arm, whilst he used his free arm to hook under her armpit and haul her up, and – once she was through the window – he found himself with a completely dead weight. They tumbled onto the floor painfully. Benjamin swore, before he rolled her over and then got up to close the windows quietly, but he felt his t-shirt cling to him in a way that didn't quite feel right. It wasn't raining outside, was it? May felt wet. Hell, his _shirt_ felt wet. Benjamin looked down suspiciously, only to see . . . _red_.

"Oh God, are you – are you _bleeding_?"

"It's – it's just a flesh wound," she mumbled.

_Fuck_. Benjamin rolled his eyes and reached down to pick her up, rather thankful that he took after Wade and that she took after the _short_ side of the family, but the groan that she let out when he lifted her made him wince. He tried to reason out that she couldn't be in a _critical_ condition, because anything too dangerous would have left her out of commission or resulted in a hospital admission, but – when he laid her on the bed – he could see a deep slash across her stomach, one that ripped through the costume. He shook his head with a sigh.

There was also damage to one of her web-shooters, which was obvious by the mass of webbing across her wrist and palm, and clearly it would be up to _him_ to fix both for her later, assuming she made it out of this unscathed. Okay, he needed to remain calm . . . the cut looked relatively superficial, despite the amount of blood, whilst her breathing was slowed down and her energy to move was low. He reached out to remove her mask, before he dropped it onto the floor and looked at her face . . . pale, too, which was probably a bad sign, but she had _a_ healing factor, even if it wasn't on par with his or their dad's. He could deal with this, although he would have to bin the sheets and his t-shirt.

"I – I _told_ you this was dangerous!"

"P-please," whispered May. "I've h-had worse."

"A sprained ankle on the basketball team is _not_ worse! _Fuck, May!_ I'm the guy you come to when you want your car fixed or a stitch to your uniform, _not once_ has anyone ever asked me to play doctor! W-well, there was one guy . . . Pops broke his nose . . . look; I don't know what I'm _doing_ here! Do you need a doctor? Shit, what am I saying? Dad will kill you, if he sees that you've been patrolling as 'Spider-Girl'. Okay -! First-aid box, right?"

"You r-ramble when you're nervous." May laughed and then clutched her side in pain. "Right, remind me not to – to laugh? Do you even . . . do you ever have a first-aid box? I've seen you f-fix a bone within a matter of minutes. I – I feel fine, anyway."

"I ramble . . . you stutter . . . what a nervous pair we make," he joked.

"Y-you try not – not to stutter when you've -!"

"Nearly peeking at internal organs?"

The uniform looked like the original Spider-Man outfit. That meant it was in pieces and not a one-piece like he suspected, which enabled him to roll the chest piece up to just under her chest, where the slash was made much more visible. Benjamin drew in a shuddered breath and raised a hand to his mouth, as he tried not to gag at the sight. _Clean cut . . . half-an-inch deep . . . at least seven inches long . . . going to need stitches. _It'd probably heal within a day or so, but it'd need the stitches to keep it closed. Wouldn't he need anaesthetic for that?

"Okay, I – I'm going to fix it," he mumbled.

He reached under the bed for his first-aid kit. The bruising on his wrists already faded, which was a perk of his own healing factor, but others – like his sister – lacked the gifts that he was born with, and after her many accidents exercising and playing sports . . . well . . . he was used to patching up the fair share of inevitable wounds. Benjamin had long-since stashed emergency medical supplies all over the house, despite his dad's mutterings that he was overly paranoid and protective, but at times like these -? He was glad for it.

"S-so? You going to tell me what happened?" Benjamin asked.

"The Goblin thinks he – he has me beat."

"Yeah, I can see why."

May let out a sharp hiss, as Benjamin began to disinfect the wound. The open box next to him looked like it would have enough to deal with the cut, but he _really_ didn't want to stitch her up without some sort of local anaesthetic . . . he hoped taping it closed and bed-rest for the day would work, so long as the cut remained closed then it would heal, right? He felt her tense and fidget as he worked around the cut from the outside to the inside, and he glared hard at her until she stopped and let him work.

It took him around five minutes to clean the wound, remove small pieces of glass, then to tape it up and bandage it closed. He wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm, whilst he _prayed_ that there wouldn't be a risk of infection, and then quietly put the first-aid box away back underneath the bed. It was rare for his sister to remain so quiet. He smiled at the moment of peace; he looked up to see her suspiciously quiet . . . her eyes were closed . . . he was sure that her breathing was either slowed or non-existent. There was a sharp and heavy pain in his chest, as if it were being forced into a compress . . . _no, this wasn't happening_.

"May? Mayday? Don't do this to me!"

The tears rolled down his face and his breath left him. Benjamin struggled to his feet and climbed onto the side of the bed, where he shook his sister firmly by the shoulders, although he could feel himself hyperventilating and his eyes become unfocussed. It was a split second later that May opened her eyes and let out a pained groan, as she tried to swat his hand away from her, and – in a moment of absolute relief – he slid to the floor and dropped his head onto the mattress and began to cry. He couldn't lose her, not like that.

"D-don't do that again!"

"I – I fell asleep," she muttered. "I'm tired."

"W-well you can't sleep yet! What if you have a concussion? What if – if you don't wake up? Look, just talk to me for a while, okay? I – I'll check the bandages in about twenty minutes; if it starts to look like it's healing, I'll get you some water and you can sleep."

"I think my uniform is all icky with blood. Turn around whilst I change?"

"May! You -! _No fucking way are you moving!"_

"I can move just fine."

Benjamin stood up and glared at her with red-rimmed eyes. The expression on her face was tired and broken, so that clearly she was bruised all over and suffered some blood-loss, and – as he looked at brown hair matted with blood – he wondered whether there were injuries that he hadn't yet been told about. He ran a hand over his face and let out a heavy sigh, before he pulled himself up and leaned against the chest of drawers near to the bed. May remained still, to her credit, but he didn't trust her enough to leave her alone.

"I want to change," whined May.

"You have to keep _still_," said Benjamin. "I can't stitch the wound without causing you pain, but you have a healing factor . . . it should knit together enough that you can move by lunchtime, as I taped and bandaged it to hell. You'll still need a few days for it to heal properly, because any sudden movements . . . it might reopen. I can't change you, May, as you're my _sister_, but what difference will one day make?"

"Well, for one thing, it took me _ages_ to lose that guy! What if he followed me home? It'd be better that he finds a high-school student sleeping, rather than Spider-Girl recovering. Still, you wouldn't believe the adrenaline rush! It was totally awesome! I got in some awesome kicks and punches, and when I headed back he got lost was too early for –"

"Hewas _following_ you? I told this two weeks ago when you started! If – if he comes back, he's going to see a girl with a _nearly fatal_ wound that's recovering in her brother's room, in the middle of the morning, dressed in a _superhero _costume. He'll figure it out!"

"Hence why I ought to change out of my costume," said May. "Duh!"

"No! Don't 'duh' me! I _told_ you this was a stupid -!"

"If it's so stupid, why the costume?"

May cocked her chin in the direction of his costume. It made him wince, as he folded his arms across his chest to try and protect himself from her accusations. The room suddenly felt ten-times colder, and – when he glanced to the mirror opposite the window – he caught sight of someone for a split second, so that he was left wondering whether he was seeing things that were real or imaginary . . . a result of his anxiety and stress. He looked away and instead looked to his costume, which was very nearly finished and ready to wear.

It was hard to look away from it, especially as he worked on it almost obsessively since May began her adventures as 'Spider-Girl', and – every night that he listened about her fights and rescues and team-ups – he found himself dreaming more and more about what life could be like as . . . well . . . a _hero_. He smiled at the sight of the mask, as he thought about the sheer _anonymity_ it would provide, so that he could just be _free _to be himself without judgements and criticism and disgust . . . just as he thought about how _everyone_ would know his name, so he would finally get some recognition and acknowledgement. Still, he wasn't naïve, and he knew that work as a superhero wasn't all fun and games. He let his smile fade away.

He could feel May's eyes looking up at him, as if she had caught him doing something that could get him into considerable trouble, and perhaps she had done just that. It was _dangerous_ to think about being a 'hero', especially when heroes didn't do what they did for glory or recognition, and going into that line of work with those intentions was worse than going into it with the _wrong_ intentions. There was simply _no way_ that he could don a costume like that and fight for the people in the city, but there was just something nice about having it there, as he knew that at least he had a _choice_, and – unlike May – he made the _right_ one.

"That's just an art project," he said. "I'm never going to wear it."

"Why not?" May asked. "You'd be a cool hero."

Benjamin shrugged, before he headed across his room to the closet. He ignored the shadows from the corner of his eye, as he wrenched closed one of the curtains, before he pulled out a clean t-shirt and pulled it over his head. In a _very_ awkward and complex manner, he managed to remove the dirty shirt underneath the clean one, thus preserving his modesty as he tossed the blood-soaked shirt to the floor. May rolled her eyes at him. He went back to the chest of drawers and glanced to her wound, as he thought about how he could have _lost_ her.

"There's nothing better than _saving_ people," said May.

"Yeah, but at what cost?" Benjamin ran his hand over his neck. "Dad lost his _leg_ fighting crime, and – although _you_ might not remember him before the accident – it _changed_ him completely and utterly. I – I really don't want to be like that! I don't want to be bitter because I've lost my dreams or a part of myself . . . it _devastated_ Pops and Aunt May, too. I can remember hearing crying at night, plus Pops disappeared for _months_, and I -!

"Ellie's mom _died_ just for being close to Pops. There are _massive_ chunks of his past missing, plus he's so _scared_ of losing us . . . everyone that got close to him _died_, May, and there's a _reason_ why our birth certificates only have _one_ parent on there, because guess who gets captured or killed or tortured when there's a price on your head? Dad spent _decades_ hiding his identity, to the point he never even told _us _the truth, and why do you think that is? _He doesn't want people to hurt us out of revenge for him!_ I'm not going to put my _family_ at risk, just because _you_ think it'll be fun to prance around in tights!"

"You make it sound like I have no idea what's at risk," snapped May. "Dad must have known the risks, too, but he was _still_ out there and fighting and trying to make the city a better place! Doesn't the welfare of the _many_ outweigh that of the _few_? I stopped a rape earlier, where that woman would have lived a _lifetime_ with that trauma. I saved a boy from a burning building, where he would have _died_ without my intervention. So what if I get a few people on my back from what I do? Dad took the _exact_ same risk! Dad _still_ acted as Spider-Man!"

"Yeah, and he lost his fucking leg for it! He nearly goddamn _died_ for it!"

"Well, I'm not Dad and I'm not going to quit!"

Benjamin looked down at her, before he looked down at the beside table between the bed and the drawers, and he caught sight of the photograph of himself with his dad, so that he wondered why May couldn't be more like _him_ . . . like Wade . . . their father, Peter, acted as Spider-Man, right? That had to mean that he took the same risks. Benjamin drew in a sharp breath and bit his lip tightly, but the realisation that Peter had rather _acted as a superhero_ than to stay safe _for his family_ . . . it was devastating. Why did May want to be like _that_?

"You're – you're being so selfish!"

"You're being a coward," snapped May.

It was an insult that he couldn't abide. He walked to his door and pressed an ear to it, as he listened out for any sounds that his parents were awake, but there was nothing except silence and the knowledge that he would need to deal with his sister's insanity alone. It wasn't fair by any means, because if _they_ could just learn to keep better watch of her -! He shouldn't be forced to play the role of father simply because Peter _couldn't_. He ran a hand over his face and tried to remain calm, as he looked to her with eyes wet with unshed tears.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Benjamin asked coldly.

"I might wear someone else's costume, but I'm doing my own thing." May waved a hand over her bandaged abdomen. "I want to be _myself_. I want to find a name for myself and _do_ something with my life, but you -! You just keep comparing yourself to everyone else -! If it's not Uncle Ben's legacy, it's Dad and Pops! Oh, then you create a _whole other identity_, which you're _too scared to wear_! Is it because 'a mask is a part of a superhero's identity'?"

"The – the costume is too _intimate _. . . it's like any work of art. Do you know how much of themselves an artist puts _into_ their work? It's impossible not to leave a personal touch . . . like a fingerprint, really. I don't _want_ to expose myself like that! I don't want the world to see something designed only as – as – as fantasy . . . a dream-version of me meant only as a distraction from the me I _really_ am. It's too -! I can't be that vulnerable around people, May, I can't! I never wanted to be myself . . . _I want to be someone else_."

"So stick on the costume and _be_ someone else! It's not an extension of yourself, no matter what Uncle Tony argues! It's just a _costume_, so no one can see your face and _sue_ you for damage! Heck, most heroes only wear costumes because they _have_ to wear them."

"Then there are those that wear them as a _symbol_ of who they _really_ are."

"Ugh, so if we traded costumes, you'd be okay with that?"

Benjamin knew what she was trying to convey. If there weren't an emotional attachment to a costume, as well as a lack of a personal touch, then he wouldn't have to worry about revealing a part of himself or expressing himself through his costume. He looked down at her, to see that – despite wearing a little more colour in her cheeks – she still looked frail and was currently pulling at a frayed edge of a bandage. It was then he remembered how hurt she had been, as well as how long it may take her to recover. She caught his glance and asked:

"You'd be someone else, then, right?"

"Yeah," he said sadly. "Still, as much as I _dream_ about being someone – _anyone_ – other than who I am, why would I want to besmirch _someone else's _reputation by _stealing_ their identity? Look, I know I'm not being very clear, but . . . I'd rather stick to the shadows."

He gave her a stern look, before he walked over to the dummy and reached down to grab an old sheet, one that he used to cover his works-in-progress. Wade never looked at his work out of the desire for the end result to remain a 'surprise', whilst Peter rarely showed an interest in his work and expressed a need for his son to _study_ more instead, and so – with a sheet covering it – there was virtually no way that they would find out the truth. The costume would remain out of sight, so he would be safe from any worried parents.

There was a moment of sadness as he let his hands slip away from the cloth, until he gave a heavy sigh and headed back to his spot by the drawers. May made to sit up, but he shot a web from his wrist and made sure that she was stuck to the bed by her chest and upper arms, even as she struggled and complained childishly. Benjamin didn't even look at her, he was eventually forced to glare at her when she began to kick, as they _both_ knew that she needed to remain still, and – as she kicked again – he webbed her legs, too. He made a mental note to apologise come breakfast, but it was then that a knock came at the door.

'_Yo, you pair still up?'_

The door opened slowly, as Wade appeared from behind. There was a moment of absolute panic from the both of them, although more so from May . . . her reflexes and perception were heightened, much like their father's, so that she would likely have seen the door move in slow-motion and yet was too tied up to react. Benjamin was otherwise too exhausted to react, too tired to even think of an excuse, and so – by the time he even process the fact the door was opening – their dad was already in the room and looking about with a bright smile and curious expression, and the two teenagers felt an absolute sense of dread. There was a heavy pit in his stomach, as he felt a painful sweat break over him.

He didn't have time to question how Wade knew that May was in his room, just as Wade seemed to take the sight of her bandaged and tied down as a normal occurrence, and he even closed the door behind him _very_ softly, as if he were in on their secret and didn't want to alert Peter to what was happening. Benjamin looked to the window and suddenly saw the appeal in being to jump and be free, but he needed to be _responsible_, which meant facing the situation they found themselves in and accepting any punishment dealt out.

"P-Pops, I can explain! We -!"

"Ah, forget about it," said Wade. "You guys are acting like it's some big secret! Wait . . . is it some big secret? If I'm not meant to know about this 'Spider-Girl' thing, I can leave and come back later, but I might still remember . . . oh well, right? I forget everything else!"

"I didn't mean to keep it secret," said May. "I just didn't think you guys would react all that well, because Dad is _so_ overprotective and he _hates_ us using our powers! He acts like we're going to get persecuted and hunted down just for _saying_ the word mutant, and I _really_ wanted to help people and use my powers for good! I was just trying to be a hero!"

"Hey, I've seen the S.H.I.E.L.D. reports! It looks like you're doing good! I ain't here to chew you out or tell you to stop! Just be careful, alright? You get caught then there'll be hell to pay! Fuck, you're lucky not to be caught tonight! Huh, I guess it's true what they say about baseball, you know, about it being more tiring for the pitcher than the catcher, but that guy has that stupid spider-sense, so he'll probably be up like – _bam_! – if you keep being noisy!"

Benjamin raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He ignored the blatant case of 'too much information' to focus on the fact that . . . what . . . their dad was here just to tell them to keep the noise down? It was difficult not to cast a glance to his sister, where he could see a little speck of blood seep through the bandage, and he knew that he would need to change the bandages in a few hours and check on the wound. She was lucky not to have been sliced in half. She was lucky to be _alive_. How could Wade focus on the _noise_ and not the _danger_?

"That's it?" Benjamin asked. "You just want us to _stop arguing_?"

"What do you want me to say? I know what it's like to be told _not_ to do something. It's like that big shiny red button that says 'do not press'! You just _got_ to press it! Ha, that's not a euphemism though, so if you _see_ a red button that's forbidden then _don't_ go pressing it, because that's a whole other legal and moral dilemma! Anyway, if I tell May not to go be Spider-Girl, she'll just be secretive . . . least this way, I know where she is!"

"Oh, you have to be fucking joking! Look at her! The Goblin fucking slashed her stomach wide open . . . she's passing out from blood loss, and I've had to try and keep the wound together so her healing factor has a chance at tackling it! She can _die_! She's not like us!"

"Hello," snapped May. "I'm right here! I can hear you!"

"You're damned _lucky_ to be here!"

May snapped her head to the side to stare at the wall. It was clear that she was pissed, perhaps she even had a right to be, but he couldn't help but think how he nearly _lost_ his sister to some insane fight with a guy thinking he'd be the latest super villain. Hell, for all he knew, May could have brought the Goblin right to their home . . . May could be taken from their front porch, from her bed . . . at any moment! Benjamin swallowed hard and realised that this _fear_ would be what a superhero would feel on a _daily_ basis . . . how could she do this to them?

It was starting to feel incredibly cold in his room, but perhaps it was his anxiety that caused him to feel that way. He wondered whether Wade felt cold at all; his father was dressed only in a pair of boxers that were red-and-black, but Benjamin felt grateful that at this time they didn't bump into each other in the corridor with his father dressed in lingerie, as that was a scarring sight that made for an uncomfortable breakfast the next day. Still, he stood there looking so _casual_, as if this were nothing more than a joke! May didn't care. Wade seemed to think it was no big deal. _Someone_ needed to intervene, before Mayday was hurt.

"I'm telling Dad," snapped Benjamin.

"No, you're not," said Wade. "I'll speak to Mayday when she's all healed up, so she knows about safety and stuff . . . maybe Tony or Brucey or someone can teach her some self-defence, plus she can have one of my old belts! Teleport right out of danger! Anyway, you go telling your dad and he'll be _super_ pissed and panicking and all upset! I'm the one that's got to stay up with the guy crying himself to sleep, all because he thinks his daughter is going to _die_ in the line of 'duty'! Petey is super sensitive, even if you don't see it!

"It's like what they say about ignorance being bliss . . . probably why I'm always so happy, right? See, it totally works! I'll help out May once she heals up, so it won't even be a problem, as she'll kick ass and take names, then I can kick the asses of those names, so everyone will win! You tell Petey, though . . .? You know, one time he was all making stupid jokes to Tony, so Tony was all 'shut him up' and stormed off, so I kissed him to shut him up, and it way worked, only he _still_ was crying in the night. He jokes to hide the nerves, just like he pretends to be all bitchy so you don't know he's sad! No one has to worry about you, but May's different! If she gets hurt, way more of a problem!"

Benjamin winced at those words. He hoped that no one worried about him due to his healing factor, where he knew from experience that even the deepest of burns and cuts could heal within minutes, and yet it felt as if there was something deeper to the words. Everyone talked about Ellie . . . home every Sunday for 'family day', working hard to become a doctor . . . everyone talked about May, too, where she succeeded academically and with athletics, but then there was Benjamin. Of course no one worried about him, why would they?

"You're in charge," muttered Benjamin.

He said it so coldly that even Wade looked a little hurt. The fact was that he couldn't go against his parents, so – if Wade decided that this was fine – he would just have to accept that, even if he felt his hands clench so tightly that he could _feel_ his nails cutting into his skin. There would come a point where this decision would come back to haunt them all, but maybe May was right . . . he was a coward. He wasn't prepared to fight Wade on this.

"I'm going to crash in the spare room," said Benjamin.

"Can I get breakfast in bed?" May asked. "Pancakes would be great!"

"Sure, Pops can make them."

It was hard to begrudge her breakfast-in-bed when she was injured, but – if Wade wanted to enable this dangerous stunt – _he _could deal with it himself. Benjamin stormed out of his room and let the two talk, as he marched down the hallway barefoot towards the spare bedroom, which once belonged to Ellie and was still used by her on her stays over. There was a faint musty smell, from the heavy disuse, but there was also the faint floral scent of Ellie's perfumes, which comforted him a little. Ellie was always the voice of reason.

The room was pretty bare, save for a king-size bed and a dressing table filled with knickknacks, and he nearly smiled on the sight of sight of a photo taped to the mirror of the table, where he could see himself with Ellie and their dad, back when he was around ten or so and Ellie had just graduated from high-school. He missed her more than anything. Benjamin sighed and threw himself into the bed, as he cuddled up against pink sheets and a thin duvet, and thought about how he could talk to his older sister about anything . . . he wondered what she would say about this. He wondered whether she would agree with him or side with their dad, but he only sighed and looked out to the window.

It was then that he caught sight of the figure from earlier. They kept to the shadows, but given May's recent run-in with the Goblin . . . he could guess easily enough who their newfound 'stalker' may be. Ideally, they would be safe with the alarm system, S.H.I.E.L.D. connections, and ex-mercenary dad with heavy weaponry hidden about, but a person only needed a few minutes to kill or maim. There was clearly no point telling Wade or May, as the former probably knew and the latter thought herself invincible, but someone had to do something . . . Benjamin watched the shadow intently.

"I see you," he said coldly.

The shadow vanished.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

'_This stops right now, May!'_

Benjamin sat lazily on the top step. He glanced down the stairs to the living room, but all he could see were the shadows that his family cast. It felt as if they had been yelling for hours now, but – in actuality – it couldn't have been longer than ten minutes or so, and yet he couldn't remember May _once_ getting in more than a word or two. The shouting was enough to distract him from his work, which meant that he could do little other than to listen and remain ready to intervene, should they need a mediator to help resolve the issue . . .

The only difficulty was that it was so _late_ at night, as well as ice cold outside, and – even with the heating and many layers of clothing – he felt as if his skin were turned to _ice_. He looked down at his fingerless gloves, as well as the long sleeves of his sweater, and wondered whether he was maybe too overdressed . . . it was then he wondered how May _survived_ in the middle of a blizzard wearing _spandex_ of all things. It was hard _not_ to worry when she lacked their healing factor . . . there was a great chance of frostbite or hypothermia or -! It was no wonder that their father was so annoyed! Benjamin felt annoyed and he wasn't even the one that risked life to _carry_ her, as he heard that the pregnancy with May was a rough one.

'_Someone has to do something,'_ said May.

'_Oh, and that person just has to be you?'_ Peter snapped. _'You're fifteen-years-old! You're just a child and have your whole life ahead of you! You should be at school studying for your future, not risking your life doing a job that so many others are doing!'_

'_Okay. Fine. How old were _you_ when you were Spider-Man?'_

'_Old enough to know the value of responsibility.'_

'_Oh my God! You were fifteen, weren't you?'_

This was not going to go well. The heavy silence that followed was indicative of a deep-seated fury, especially when Peter was the sort to quip and talk and – well – never _shut up_, to a degree that _nearly_ put their dad to shame, but this silence . . . it was damning. It was enough that Benjamin felt himself forced to stand up, especially because he could hear their dad sniggering in a corner, and that was never a good thing in itself. Eventually someone would ask Wade to pick a side, or someone would say something that they couldn't take back . . .

'_You need to learn from my mistakes,'_ said Peter.

'_I did! I don't plan on making those same mistakes, Dad!'_

Benjamin made his way quietly downstairs, where he saw Wade sitting on the large sill of the bay window, and his dad – with his face hidden by a large cap and oversized hood – looked down at his hands that were gloved and clasped together. On the sofa sat May, where he could see that she was dressed in her Spider-Girl outfit, and opposite her stood Peter with his arms crossed across his chest, with small creases appearing on his suit. He looked red in his face and his hands clenched impossibly tight onto his arms . . . he was pissed.

He looked up when he saw Benjamin jump down the last few steps, and then raised an eyebrow at him in a rather suspicious manner, as if he somehow _blamed_ Benjamin for this. It wouldn't have surprised Benjamin, if he did, because it was possible that May had revealed all about using _his_ window to sneak back into the house, and that effectively revealed the fact that he kept her secret and enabled her behaviour. He knew that his father would want _someone_ to blame . . . he was likely terrified, not to mention angry at being the last to know, and he looked as if he had been crying . . . it was enough to make Benjamin feel almost as if he were intruding on something personal. He felt like a stranger amidst his family.

"Did you know about this?" Peter asked.

Benjamin looked down in embarrassment and shrugged, before he made his way into the lounge and took a seat in the armchair to the far right. There was a slight draught from behind him, with the archway into the kitchen unfortunately located not far from the chair, and opposite him Wade glanced over with a look that was hard to decipher. It was clear that his dad didn't want to be there, but he also loved May enough that he probably also didn't want to risk his daughter and husband fighting, and yet clearly he was looking to Benjamin to take over his role as referee, which was all but expected.

"I knew," said Benjamin. "I _wanted_ to tell you, but Pops said 'no'!"

"Hey, I was just thinking of you, baby boy!" Wade shouted from his perch. "Mayday was going to go prancing around regardless, right? This way I knew where she was and what she was doing, without it being all secret and stuff! I knew you'd freak, if you knew!"

"Does anyone care what _I_ have to say?" May asked. "Dad was doing the _exact_ same job at the _exact_ same age! It's hypocritical! It's like 'do as I say and not as I do', but I didn't think we were raised that way, were we? You always say that it's important to set a good example and to be responsible, but _now_ you're saying I should ignore everything you did and just let people _die_, because I should put my safety before anyone else's?"

"_Enough! All of you, enough!"_

Peter drew in a broken breath. He raised a hand to his face and ran it across his skin, before he pulled at his lips and blinked rapidly, as if he were trying to fight away the tears that were inevitably about to spring forth. It took him only a second to pull out a footstool from nearby, whereby he sat down awkwardly and buried his face into his hands. There was something heartbreaking about seeing his father – the one usually so in control – reduced to looking so devastated and so vulnerable. It made Benjamin wish that he had spoken sooner, so that maybe his father would have been spared finding out in this way . . . he felt a spark of guilt.

There was a smell of something sweet from close by, which Benjamin worked out to be coming from the kitchen, and it smelled as if one of his fathers were cooking dessert after a meal that Benjamin was _sure_ he had forgotten to eat. It was likely Wade that had chosen to cook, with Peter only just getting in at this late hour from work, and that meant he _probably_ came home to catch May climbing in through a window or swinging down into the garden, and – again – Benjamin felt that he could have prevented this shock by _telling_ him.

It was a moment later that Benjamin felt his heart break, as he was sure that he could hear his father crying quietly behind his hands, and he felt so awkwardly embarrassed that he couldn't bring himself to look up at all. He hated knowing that his father was hurt, but at the same time . . . it felt patronising and inappropriate to try and console him, especially when his dad was in the room and knew better than anyone whether intervention was necessary. It would probably look too obvious to walk away at this point, but it would also feel too much like he was turning his back on his family . . . he felt helpless . . . he felt as if he lost all control of his life . . . he didn't know what to do. He just wanted the pain to stop.

"I know what I'm doing," said May.

"No, you don't," snapped Peter. "Do you think it'll be easy? You'll have to lie to your friends and family, to your boyfriends. You'll have to try and explain away injuries, which isn't easy as it sounds, and what happens when you miss important events? It's one thing to miss your own graduation, trust me, but when you can't commit to any kind of life . . . any kind of stability . . . when you see someone you love _die_ -! You don't come back from that."

"Shit, you're talking about Gwen, right?" Wade asked. "That shit sounds pretty messed up. I still think it's funny you're at her grave ever year, but I'm not one to talk . . . I couldn't even _look_ at Ellie for the longest time. There gets to a point where you forget whether you just grew numb to the deaths or just never cared at all . . ."

"No, you were just lucky . . . I care about every single one. I – I can feel my uncle's blood on my hands like it was yesterday. The – the sight of Gwen – the sight of Gwen dangling by that web and how beautiful she looked . . . MJ when she cried over -!"

"Hey, you don't need to carry on, Petey! We get it!"

"No, _you_ get it! _May needs to know_!"

Peter looked up with clear tears in his eyes. It was enough to make Benjamin look up a little and take notice, especially when Peter leaned forward and gave May a dark look, as if he were channelling all of his rage and pain in her direction. The fact was that he _loved_ May more than anything, so every risk that she took was like a dagger into his heart, and Benjamin _knew_ that . . . granted, he hadn't any children of his own to know exactly, but he could _imagine_ it well. Peter's lip trembled and his hands shook awfully.

"Do you know why I – I stopped being Spider-Man?"

"I figured it was because you lost your leg," said May quietly. "I mean, even with your healing factor, it probably took a few months to use your prosthetic properly, plus you're always so self-conscious about it. Oh! Plus an artificial leg won't stick to a wall!"

"I gave up because I realised how _selfish_ I was being, May!" Peter paused for a breath, whilst Benjamin felt a spark of validation that his father agreed with him. "I – when -! When I lost my leg, do you know what I thought about? I thought about you . . . about your brother . . . I thought about how I might never get to see you grow up, how I would never get to walk you down the aisle on your wedding day . . . I thought about everything I would miss out on. I also thought about what would happen to you, if I died then and there . . .

"I thought about how your Pops would have to explain to Benjamin how I wouldn't be coming back, and how – when you were older – you would ask where I was, and maybe you would hate me . . . you would know that I would rather have fought crime than be with you, and you would have wanted to know why you weren't as important as a _job_. I quit, because I love you too much. I didn't want to leave you . . . I didn't want you to blame yourself. Now you might think the mistake was getting _injured_, but the real mistake was ever wearing that mask in the first place. I put it on for all the wrong reasons – to catch the man that killed my uncle – and I clung to it for an identity, never realising I define _myself_, the mask _doesn't_."

That was a revelation that made Benjamin feel infinitely small. He wondered how Peter _did_ define himself, especially when he always seemed so confident and to know exactly who he was, but Benjamin . . . Benjamin rubbed at the line on his wrist and sighed. It was difficult to think about his place in the family, especially when everyone seemed to _know_ their roles and what they _wanted_ from life, and when he looked to his costume – when he looked at his mask – he still dreamed of being_ someone else_. He wished he knew what he was running from.

"I don't plan on dying," said May.

"Do you realise how much we love you? Do you think I want you to ever feel like I felt? I don't want to see my baby girl _crying_ because she's lost someone that she loves, because she blames herself over their death! I – _oh God_ – I could lose you, too. No parent should ever outlive their child. _No one_. I – if – if you -! Just _thinking_ that I could be standing over _your_ coffin –! It – it makes it hard to breathe! It makes me want to trade places . . ."

The way that Peter raised his hand to his mouth made him look so vulnerable, especially when he shook his head with a desperate gasp, and tried to blink away the tears. He seemed so much more pale suddenly, as if the horror of losing someone he loved so much had drained away every last ounce of blood, and Benjamin wondered whether that could have been part of the appeal for Peter regarding someone like Wade. There was no way that Wade could die, no way that Peter could lose him, but he _could_ lose May . . .

May pouted a little, as if she couldn't quite relate to the sense of loss, but then . . . how could she? They hadn't even been given so much as a plant growing up, let alone a pet, and so the concept of death was something abstract and vague. There was no way that they could understand the absolute sense of devastation of losing a loved one, to the extent that it felt like a piece of them had died in the process, and Benjamin had to wonder how many pieces of his soul that Peter lost in his years of Spider-Man, hit irrevocably by grief. Peter looked across to her with a sad smile and seemed to be _pleading_ with her silently.

"Why do you have to use your powers?" Peter asked.

Benjamin drew in a harsh breath, whilst Wade made a noise like a growl, and May – unable to hold her tongue or hide her mind – sent Peter a dangerous and dark glare. The fact was that Benjamin _knew_ this was about to end badly, because Wade and May both believed so _passionately_ that there was nothing wrong with being 'different', and that mutants should be _proud_ of their heritage. It felt like only Peter considered the massive discrimination mutants faced on a daily basis, as well as the many wars and attempts at genocide. To admit to being a mutant was tantamount to signing one's own death warrant at times during history.

"You could hide them easily," whispered Peter.

"I shouldn't _have_ to hide," snapped May. "Why can't I be_ proud_ of what I am? I shouldn't have to be ashamed of being born differently! I can _use_ my powers for something _good_! You once thought that, too! _What is it_? If _you_ can't be Spider-Man then no one else can?"

Peter's expression fell completely. The room felt so much colder, enough that Benjamin pulled at the sleeves of his black sweater and tried to curl into himself, but the armchair was a little too small for his large frame, and he was forced to rest his feet on the arm. He tried to avoid making eye-contact with his family, as he felt afraid one of them would ask for his opinion, but he couldn't help than too occasionally look upon his father. There was just something so tragic about seeing a man so strong reduced to being so weak.

It was only a moment later when Peter returned to standing, as he brought both hands over his head and through his hair, until he let them clasp behind his neck and gnawed conspicuously at his lip. The suit looked creased and slightly too large for him, whilst he looked between his son and husband with a wavering eye, as if he sought for some support from one of them, and yet Wade remained as uncharacteristically silent as Benjamin. Peter dropped a hand from his neck and then waved it in loose circles at his daughter, where May looked up at him with a curiously hard gaze, albeit with a spark of pain behind her eyes. Peter broke the silence:

"Do you really think I'd be that selfish?"

"By refusing to let me help people, just for your own peace of mind? Yeah."

Benjamin had enough. He swung his legs off the armchair and dropped them to the floor, where his trainers hit the ground with a heavy thud, and – as he looked between his father and sister – he realised that soon someone was going to say something that they couldn't take back. It wasn't fair for him to be made to take sides, just as he didn't want to spend his evening mediating a fight that wasn't anything to do with him . . . it should have been up to _Wade and Peter_ to work out a position and to _parent_ May together. Benjamin drew in a deep breath and wondered what kind of mess he would walk back to, although he felt an _immense_ sense of guilt at walking away, as he knew they needed him to moderate.

He walked around the back of the sofa and stopped by the stairs, where he cast a quick glance to the front door and wondered just _why_ he couldn't walk away . . . it was selfish, because he knew that his family needed him, but just once – _for once_ – he wanted the freedom to make his own choice and to _maybe_ come first. It wasn't fair that he was held responsible for May's actions, just as it wasn't fair that they expected him to fix their problems, as if he were the only person that could resolve any arguments . . . he just needed to – to – to _breathe_!

"Yo, Benji, you off?"

Benjamin jumped as he looked across to Wade by the window. It was strange to see his dad with eyes closed, hidden mostly by the lowered cap, and yet clearly at least _someone_ knew Benjamin well enough to guess what he was thinking and where he was going. Benjamin gave a weak smile, before he turned his head just enough to look at his dad, before he grabbed his coat and shrugged it on with a casual gesture. It was difficult to look Wade in the eye, but he managed it regardless and continued his false smile.

"Er – yeah . . . I just need some air."

The door opened before Wade had a chance to say anything further, just as – the second he closed the door behind him – he heard his sister and father begin to shout angrily at one another, and he didn't envy his dad for being caught in that mess. He felt another swelling of regret, as he wondered whether he was being too selfish about leaving them to resolve the mess for themselves, but the cold air felt so good! It was so refreshing and woke him up just enough to feel better about himself, with the isolation and quiet being such a comfort to him, especially when he so rarely got either in his life. He smiled sincerely and breathed deeply.

It was strange to see his breath before his face, as well as the night sky above, and he realised that – unlike May – he rarely broke the rules and couldn't remember the last time he was outside past curfew . . . it was strange that a need for air could be the closest thing to a 'rebellious phase' that he experienced. He felt a twinge of shame at that realisation, before he began to take a slow walk around the neighbourhood, but at a certain point he realised that he wasn't alone as he thought . . . had Wade followed him outside?

Benjamin drew in a shuddered breath and looked around, although he couldn't see anything or anyone. It was difficult to see his house in the distance, as he managed to walk himself onto the corner of the street, and the streetlights were few and far between in these parts of the suburbs. Still, he could _hear_ someone nearby. There was a shadow in front of him, but he could only hear the rustling of leaves in the wind and the sound of some sort of party from afar, and he knew – even without a spider-sense – that something was very wrong. He stood his ground and tried to appear tall and confident. He spoke loudly . . .

"Show yourself," said Benjamin.

There was a sudden movement from behind. It caught him off-guard, so that he tried to turn, but something came across his chest and pulled him back . . . it felt like an arm . . . oh god, was this some sort of attack? He tried to struggle, but something struck him. It was a strong and extremely painful sensation in his neck, before he slowly turned his head to see a needle being pulled back and realised that he had been stabbed with some sort of substance . . . enough to knock him out even with his healing factor.

He felt afraid . . . his heart didn't race, neither did his pulse quicken, but he felt the fear . . . something almost ethereal and unreal . . . it was strange sense of clinical detachment. The fear was there and yet he couldn't feel its effects. It was difficult to breathe, but his body began to feel heavy and numb . . . the arm across his chest was now under his armpit, as he was lowered to the ground and felt the pavement under his head . . . was it normal to see in double? Two mirror images existed of everything . . . this – this had to be some sort of sedation, he remembered May experiencing the same symptoms when . . . when she . . . where was May? Why was he alone? He felt tired, dizzy . . . he wanted to sleep . . .

'_She'll come running now,'_ said a voice.

The last thing he saw was green . . .


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Funny, some superhero _you_ are!"

Benjamin winced as he felt another kick. It came straight at his stomach, which caused him to curl in on himself and cough repeatedly. He felt as if he were choking under the pain, with his muscles aching cruelly from both the abuse and the strain of trying to brace himself, but the blows came fast and furious upon him. There was very little time to catch his breath, but there was a slight relief in knowing that there would be no lasting damage . . . his healing factor should kick in soon enough . . . too bad it didn't stop the pain . . .

There was a brief reprieve, as Benjamin rolled himself onto his back. He spluttered and coughed, until he turned his head onto its side and spat up clumps of blood and vomit, with the taste acrid and overwhelming his senses . . . he struggled to raise his legs, with ankles tied together nearly as tight as the wrists behind his back, and his whole body contorted awkwardly, as he strove to regain some composure. The rope against his skin chafed and cut deeply, so that there was a horrible feeling of blood against his flesh . . . some wet, some drying, some flaking already . . . he hated worst the feeling of tears down his cheeks. It was too vulnerable to be in this position, to terrifying to think it might not end . . .

"Oh, I know your secrets, too," said his captor.

A booted foot came down hard upon Benjamin's chest. It was heavy and hard, so that Benjamin began to _wish_ he had taken his dad up on his offers of self-defence lessons growing up, or even exercised like his sister did or worked out like his dad did . . . just – just _something_ so that he could fight back! He struggled to breathe out with the boot right in the centre of his ribcage, whilst he felt a pressure on _God only knew_ what organ -! Benjamin began to hyperventilate in his panic, which only made it so much worse! He – he was suffocating! Instinct tried to make him pull the foot from him . . . he restraints rubbed bloody.

There was an almost manic laugh from the Goblin, whilst the criminal grabbed at his mask and threw it to the ground, and Benjamin – as his eyes blurred with nauseatingly colourful sparks – could barely focus enough to see it. A kick came a moment later, but this time with less force and more as if the owner of that foot were bored, and Benjamin was left once more on his side, as he wept and choked at once . . . there was either blood or mucus running down his nose . . . he tasted iron and retched.

"I learned something very interesting about May," said the Goblin.

Benjamin felt a hand bury itself into his hair, which forced him to roll more onto his back and look up at a face . . . it felt as if his hair was being wrenched from the roots . . . the pain was painful enough to jolt him back to a consciousness he hadn't been aware was slipping, until he felt a hot breath against his cheek and saw the face of his captor close up. There was a glimpse of brown hair and blue eyes . . . a sleeve of the costume rolled up, so that he saw a blur of a tattoo and a scar . . . Benjamin _knew_ that scar. He knew this man was broken.

"I saw your birth certificates," said the Goblin.

"S-so . . . so what?" Benjamin asked. "W-why do you . . . do you . . .?"

"Why do I care? I noticed something _interesting_, Benjamin. It seems that both you and your sister have a _father_, but no _mother_. I suppose it's possible that you were both left on a doorstep, whilst father dearest had _so many_ conquests that he couldn't even suggest to the police a potential mother, but –! Ah, yes, that's right! No investigations were in place, no reports issued . . . born in Stark Tower . . . adoptive father Wade _Winston_ Wilson."

The air ran so cold . . . the factory they were in felt abandoned, although he woke up on a platform in the far rear and was too dizzy to focus on the sights, but it couldn't be still in use when it was so damned _cold_ . . . the sweat on his body was almost painful. It was strange to be so covered in sweat and blood, but to feel the cold like _ice_ on every nerve and every inch of skin was unbearable. The dust in the air filled his lungs with every heaving breath, and he could _smell_ the Goblin's breath on his lips, so that he felt sick to his stomach with the faux intimacy. Benjamin tried to pull away, but the Goblin only tugged on his hair again.

"It's not – not u-unusual to – to be –"

"Let's not play games," said the Goblin. "You have a _healing_ factor. I've been watching your family ever since I first followed your sister home, and – well – let's just say that I'm told _I _have issues -! Still, if I had a healing factor like that . . .? Well, I'd probably be able to hide my 'issues', too." Benjamin caught sight of the man's scar and winced. "So _someone_ is the result of a _very_ unique mutant ability, an alien lineage, or a spell gone wrong."

"D-don't take this . . . don't take this the wrong way, but you – you have _fucking issues_! The – the Goblin was a fucking lunatic . . . you want to do s-something useful with your – your life? You can't even kill yourself right . . . you're – you're shit even at that."

"Let's try not to taunt the man with a knife, hmm?"

"C-cut me. I'll heal. _Try it_."

Benjamin spat at the Goblin. It was hard to find enough saliva, but clearly he was bleeding enough for liquid not to be an issue, and with the Goblin so close . . . it was hardly an issue at all, which brought a smirk to his lips. The snarl on the other man's lips was something that he _could_ see, enough that a brief spark of recognition shot through Benjamin. He _knew_ this man! He remembered him from a couple grades above in school . . . what was his name? Norman Harold Osborne? He remembered . . . he remembered because his father knew _his_ father.

The brief recognition only lasted an instant, before the hand in his hair clenched and then let go, but – before he could sigh in relief – the back of the older teenager's hand came across his face, striking him with enough force to knock his head to one side. He felt his cheek come into contact with the vomit from earlier, which made him clench his mouth shut and forced him to breathe through his nose to try and fight back more vomit, as he tried to calm himself down and remember that – eventually – _someone would find him_. Normie – as he remembered Norman preferring to be called – grabbed at his hair again and forced him to look upwards, whilst he knelt above Benjamin with a leg on either side of his waist. Benjamin felt dizzy . . . the drugs were out of his system, but he felt so sick . . .

It was then that he heard the sound of a something rough being moved, which reminded him of the sound of a blade through fabric, and – when he let his eyes look down – he saw Normie's free hand reach for a knife hidden in a sheaf at his ankle, which he slowly raised with a sadistic smile. Benjamin looked fear-stricken at the blade. It looked dull in the factory's dark and ill-lit space, as well as oddly brown at the edges, as if it had been used many times before and ill cleaned . . . this was a man that knew how to wield a knife . . . this was also a man that pointed the tip hard against Benjamin's jawbone.

"Peter is the only listed biological parent," said Normie.

"S-so fucking what? You want to say I got Pops' eyes? Fine. _Fucking take them! _I – I can g-grow them back anyway, but he'll – he'll kill you . . . Dad won't, but Pops will. Every cut you make, he'll m-make _twelve_. _Fuck you, Norman!_"

"So I'm curious . . . did you get Daddy's power, Benji?"

"_No_," lied Benjamin coldly. "I didn't."

"Lying to me already?"

Normie moved the blade down his neck. The pressure was never let up, so that a line of blood appeared underneath the line that was drew, and the liquid stained the material on the neck of his jumper, before the material began to tear with the knife's touch. Benjamin tried to focus his face into one of fury, as he felt his heart beat painfully fast within his chest. The nausea made his stomach roll, whilst his eyes watered against his will, and he felt pins and needles over his body as the fear got to him. He glared at Normie in livid rage.

"Why w-would I lie?" Benjamin asked. "W-what does . . . it matter?"

"If you think I might use that knowledge to my advantage," said Normie, "you would have reason to lie, yes? It's true that for every cut I make, it'll heal over and your father will make twelve more on _my_ skin, but . . . there are some things 'Pops' _can't_ cut away."

"I – I'm not – I'm not lying. It's not a – a hereditary ability."

"You're pale and your eyes are wide. You're scared."

"Fine, fucking _do_ it. Nothing will come of it."

"Your tears would be enough."

The terror that coursed through him was agonising. He scrunched his eyes shut and tried to control his rapid breathing, but the truth was something that he'd known since _childhood_, and this wasn't something that he wanted Normie to know . . . even if he didn't know . . . if he made good on his threat . . . Benjamin shivered. There was a chance that Normie was just trying to _scare_ him, but – if so – he was doing a damned good job! Normie wasn't that kind of person, from what Benjamin remembered . . . he – he just wanted to scare him . . .

The knife began to run down his chest; only the material of the jumper stopped it from cutting him, and it paused momentarily above his heart . . . it was painful to feel the beating, as well as terrifying to hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Benjamin wanted to struggle and to fight, but he didn't want to risk another beating and he forced himself to remain steady and placid with the other man still straddling over him. He opened his eyes briefly. The tears blurred his sight, whilst sweat and blood fell into his eyes and made them sting painfully, and he could see the knife go lower and lower, until it reached his belt. Benjamin felt his entire body tense in dreaded anticipation . . . the knife worked under his belt and cut it open. A horrified gasp escaped his lips and made him sound weaker than he liked . . .

"Luckily for you, I'm bored," said Normie.

The hand in his hair moved away, whilst Normie stood to his feet. Benjamin began to sob in earnest; he let his head fall down onto the platform with a sickening crack, whilst he rolled onto his right side and tried to curl into himself as best as he could. Never in his life had he felt so vulnerable or so fragile, and to have his life – his _body_ – in the hands of some madman with a grudge . . . it was frightening. He drew in shaking breaths and tried to hide his face out of humiliation, because he knew the son of a superhero should never be so weak.

"We also have company."

"W-what?" Benjamin asked. "Oh God, am I -?"

"No friends of mine. Your chastity is safe, rest assured."

Normie stepped to one side, but Benjamin still couldn't focus enough to see. The windows high up were dusty and covered in grime, so that very little moonlight seeped through, and the beams above were so cast in darkness that it was impossible to see any details. There weren't any sounds aside from Normie's feet upon the debris around them, so that Benjamin was left wondering just _how_ the older teenager _knew_ they had company, but it was hard to care at that point . . . he just wanted to _hide_. He wanted to be far away from there.

It was a while before he heard a familiar gasp. He struggled to find the source of the sound, before he looked to see Spider-Girl shrouded by darkness. It was enough to make him laugh quietly, as he felt a strange mixture of absolute relief and a sense of absurdity that it would be his little sister to rescue him, and he felt a tear fall as he thought about how it should have been_ him_ as her protector, as the older sibling . . . he smiled sadly. He _prayed_ that she wouldn't get hurt. He remembered the slash on her abdomen that terrified him, as well as the bruises she often experienced, and he could do _nothing_ to help her or even find the strength to shout. His voice was raw. His wrists were covered with ropes that blocked his webbing.

May looked confident enough, but she was dressed in full costume and there was no real way to see what she was feeling or thinking . . . he knew his sister well enough to guess; the way she was hunched over and how her limbs looked unnatural, it was almost as if she were trying to emulate the original Spider-Man, which meant that she wasn't comfortable in being _herself_. The way that she jumped down, before swinging across to the other side of the platform, made him want to call out to her to keep her distance . . . he didn't want to risk her being hurt . . . he would never be able to live with himself. How could she even _be_ here?

"My brother better be okay," snapped May.

"He's fine," said Normie. "See for yourself, Mayday."

Normie kicked Benjamin hard in his ribs. He let out a pained cry of pain, as he felt what had to be a break, and began to pant in agony . . . the searing heat in his side, the way that his organs felt as if they may explode at any moment . . . he began to sob as he prayed for the pain to stop, but he cried harder when he thought that _May_ might be on the receiving end soon enough. He couldn't lie back and watch her get hurt, but he couldn't free himself either and he couldn't do anything but fight his restraints . . . restraints that were _loosening_ . . .

"You are so dead, Loser!"

"If only," spat Normie. "Give me all you have."

"Darn straight I will! Guess who's got the latest Stark tech!"

The two began to fight, but Benjamin could only drag himself across the floor to platform to brace himself against the wall. If he could just _get loose_ -! It was hard to see, especially when he felt his body covered in blood, but he managed to collapse against the wall and catch some of his breath . . . he struggled against the ropes, but knew that there was only one way to break free of them. He would need to break his thumbs. It was easily done, plus he knew that they would heal back, but it would be painful and he didn't want that . . .

There was a bright flash of light from one side of the room, which made him swear harshly and try to blink away his vision, but it wouldn't come back in the least. Normie laughed loudly, mocking May's inexperience . . . May mumbled that their dad used the same weapon long ago against the original Goblin, without mention of the fact that it could backfire so severely. There was the sound of skin against spandex, of low blows and high hits, and they were fighting so manically that it was impossible to follow their movements, as they moved so wildly about the room. Slowly, Benjamin's vision began to return, but he could see that the Goblin and May were evenly matched . . . Stark tech or not.

A part of Benjamin knew that it was natural to want revenge, because his dad would have _tortured_ Normie _just_ for this, so a violent death -? Normie's father died because of Peter, whilst his grandfather died because of Wade . . . it was natural. Still, there felt like _so much more_ to this degree of violence! He kidnapped Benjamin from under the nose of both Spider-Girl and Deadpool, it was almost as if – as if -! It was as if he had a death wish . . . the scars on his wrists and forearms both indicated that, as if Normie really _was_ broken.

"I got one weapon with your name on it," shouted May.

_Oh God_ . . . May might have followed their father's beliefs on violence, which meant this technology was likely just diversionary or designed for restraint, but May – unlike Benjamin's expertise – knew _nothing_ about technology. It was evident enough by the way that she nearly _blinded_ them all with a device their dad just happened to use, but should she use something experimental or truly dangerous? He – he had to stop her before she killed them all! Given how she couldn't tell a spanner from a screwdriver, it was likely!

He drew in a deep breath. He held it for a long second, as he listened to his heart beating, before he made the decision: he snapped his thumbs. It was painful enough that it caused him to cry out in pain, as a trail of saliva fell down from the corner of his mouth, and he felt unable to breathe . . . unable to think . . . it took him a second to see past the pain, until he wrenched his hands out of the ropes and threw them as far away from him as possible. It took only a few seconds to undo the ropes around his ankles, which he kicked away as best as he could through his injuries. It would only be a few minutes before she did something stupid.

Benjamin looked across to vaguely see a shape of May swinging across the factory, but it would be foolish to try and shoot a web without seeing well enough to aim, and yet – when he tried to aim his wrist, ignoring how it wavered and ached – he found that he _couldn't_ shoot anything in any case. He looked down to see the damage. The cuts and bruises and burns were extensive, as if Normie _had_ been watching and _knew_ to damage the webbing enough to stop his healing factor from kicking in _before_ he had a chance to fight May . . .

It was already too late: May threw a weapon . . .

The aim would have been good, but Normie dodged it and rolled away. It was strange to see May cover her ears, stranger still to see Normie see the movement and copy it, but – by the time he had to process it – the device went off. It was instant. The noise that it unleashed was so agonisingly high-pitched that Benjamin raised his hands to try and cover his ears, but it was too little too late . . . he felt blood. Normie left during his moment of distraction, breaking through a door that Benjamin couldn't hear, and May – meanwhile – stood looking at him with an expression of absolute guilt that shone even through her mask.

_. . . _

Benjamin blinked rapidly. He knew that May had said something, but he couldn't hear a word that she said . . . he couldn't hear anything . . . there was a horrifying silence, even as he watched May wave her hands furiously in the air in a childish manner. It was enough to make him raise his hands to his ears, where he touched them nervously, but – as he expected – they felt as if they were hearing, and yet -! He – he couldn't hear anything! _He couldn't hear anything at all!_ W-what if this was permanent? What if something was wrong?

. . .

May spoke again, but at this point he began to hyperventilate. It was something of a relief to see his sister remove her hood, especially when she was the only familiar face that he could see, but he felt so _vulnerable_. W-what if someone came up behind him? What if the Goblin was still around? Oh God, if this were permanent -! He wouldn't be able to go to a regular high school, just as he wouldn't be able to talk to his friends, and – and when he looked up he saw May's face . . . he looked at her lips. He could lip-read, but what if -?

'_\- healing factor. That can't have done any damage!'_

"I – I can't hear. I can't hear. I can't hear, May!"

'_You just need to let it heal!'_

"I think it has healed! I –!"

Benjamin closed his eyes and smiled weakly. He couldn't read her lips without seeing her, which meant . . . it meant that he was at a disadvantage . . . he – he couldn't hear! It felt childish to close his eyes to her, but he couldn't bring himself to 'listen'. He didn't want to know how it would all be okay, because it _wasn't_ okay, he – he was – he was _deaf_! Benjamin began to cry as he opened his eyes and saw the panic in her expression, and – as she came closer – he let May hold him and wept against her shoulder.

"I – I can't hear. I can't hear . . ."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

'_This is your fault, May! Yours!'_

Peter stood with hands flat on the table. The look of absolute fury in his eyes was matched only by the sheer terror that he clearly felt, so that he was deathly pale in the morning light, and Benjamin felt almost worried for him. It was difficult to see his father look so fragile and so broken, especially when he knew that _he_ was the cause for it all, and that if he had _just learned to defend himself_, maybe – just maybe – he wouldn't have been hurt . . . Peter's one fear was to lose his children, but – thanks to Benjamin – he _lived_ that fear last night.

It was made worse by the sight of May in her nightshirt and shorts, with her brown hair down over her shoulders in a matted mess, and bruises on her jaw and arms . . . the two were given the night to sleep and rest, but even breakfast was too late to wait for Peter to begin his tirade against his daughter. The sound of 'I told you so' would have been preferable to reading it on their father's lips, as well as 'this is why –' and 'he still can barely walk –', but Benjamin had a healing factor that rivalled even their dad's, so surely May should have been the one and only concern? He also hated that _she_ was the one getting the guilt-trip. It was _Benjamin_ that left on his own at night, _Benjamin_ that couldn't defend himself, _Benjamin _that –

'_I saved him, didn't I?'_ May asked.

'_He wouldn't have been targeted if . . . immature . . . child!'_

'_You can't . . . fault of . . . okay now, isn't he?'_

Great, they kept turning their heads. Benjamin wondered whether this was how his sister felt when he and their dad spoke in German, as they tried to hold a secret conversation in public, and suddenly he realised just how rude they had been in the past. It was like whispering across a table, only – at the very least – _those two_ didn't realise what they were doing. It was natural for May to gesticulate wildly, just as it was natural for Peter to look away or cover his mouth when talking, and he couldn't fault them for that, could he? Still, he felt so much like an _outsider_. This secrecy almost felt like his _punishment_ for his stupidity.

'_No, May! He's not okay! He's deaf!'_

'_It's all in his head! He has a healing factor, Dad!'_

Benjamin suddenly felt all eyes on him. He looked down to see that his jeans were stained with blood from his wounds, now mostly healed, whilst his wrists were still bruised and swollen, and his t-shirt barely hid the fact that he was a little malnourished. It was enough to make him take a mental note: he needed to start working out and eating properly, maybe even train with Wade or ask him for advice on an exercise schedule. The Goblin was still out there, but next time he wanted to be able to defend himself.

The kitchen table felt a little crowded, but Benjamin ignored it to try and look from mouth to mouth, desperate to see what conversation he may have been missing. Peter was dressed in an old shirt of Wade's and a loose pair of trousers, whilst Wade was dressed only in a disturbing thong and a t-shirt old enough to be practically transparent, although it _luckily_ was long enough to hide any parts from view that _shouldn't_ have been viewed. He felt a sense of relief that his dad sat next to him, as Wade would occasionally sign beneath the table reassurances or bad jokes, which made him feel . . . well . . . less alone. Signing felt so natural, especially when he could sign back and have a _conversation, _but they couldn't sign like that forever.

Ellie was perhaps his greatest reassurance. He hobbled downstairs earlier in the morning to see his sister sitting in the kitchen chatting with Peter, both holding steaming cups of coffee and laughing silently together, and – when she saw him – she hadn't _coddled_ him or _ignored_ him . . . she ran to him and hugged him and signed with him. It was lovely to see her, plus she looked amazing in such fashionable and high-end clothing, and he smiled when he realised that she was wearing a scarf that he designed and made for her a few Christmases back. The examination of his ear lasted only a few moments, but now it was over . . .

Ellie currently sat at the head of the table, a spot purposely chosen for the fact that he could look at her head on and read her lips or see her signs, and he felt grateful for that. It was just frustrating that Peter and May _never_ learned to sign, just as they kept_ hiding_ their lips, and every now and again Wade would sign 'rude' or 'I can always swap the chocolate with ex-lax', and Benjamin would laugh and sign what he said to Ellie, but he still couldn't hear the sound of his laughter . . . he still felt excluded . . . most of all:

"I still can't hear anything," Benjamin said through tears.

'_That's because it's not in your head,' _said Ellie, with her mouth clear in view. _'I don't want to try and diagnose you, because I'm only just qualifying as a doctor, and to become a psychiatrist -? It'll be a while before I can do that, put it that way. If I had to _guess_, but bear in mind that it _is_ just a guess . . . I'd say you have a conversion disorder. There isn't anything physically wrong with you, no, but the result is the same: deafness.'_

"I don't understand!" Benjamin prayed that he was modulating his voice properly. "I have a healing factor and you said it yourself that my ears have healed! W-what the hell is a 'conversion disorder'? H-how can I be -? How can I be _deaf_?"

'_It's a psychiatric illness.' _A pause followed. _'No, May, not "made up"!'_

"Thanks for your faith in me, Sis."

Benjamin ran a hand over his face and looked down at the table. It was perhaps a little childish, like the equivalent of holding one's hands over their ears, but if his sister wanted to talk about him . . . let her. He was fed up of constantly trying to look around the room, in a desperate attempt to catch glimpses of lips and follow conversations, and he _hated_ the idea that this could be the rest of his life. How would he follow classroom discussions? His grades were failing enough as they were, but now this -?

He looked at the pancakes in front of him. They still tasted the same, still looked the same, and yet he _missed_ the sound of the frying and his dad's out-of-tune singing, just as he missed the sound of his father's bickering with May, and he even missed Ellie's lectures on how he should take better care of himself. It took _twenty minutes_ for them to realise that he couldn't understand the news station earlier, before his dad flicked on the subtitles for him, and he wondered what would happen to the stations that _lacked_ subtitles. Oh God, he would never be able to listen to music again . . . he would never be able to hear someone shout out to him . . . he would never hear a siren of an ambulance, the beep of his alarm or -! His alarm! How would he wake up without a damned _alarm_?

"_Benji, Ellie wants you!"_

Benjamin snapped out of his thoughts to see that a pair of hands hovered over his pancakes, and that – when he looked up – his dad was wearing an incredibly sad smile next to him . . . a little flake of skin fell off his dad's skin onto his breakfast. Ellie watched him from across the room, whilst Peter looked on the verge of tears and May was pouting childishly, although that was only to hide her pain and panic. The breakfast foods all smelled delightful, which was a distraction in itself, but he looked back to his dad and felt tears rise.

"_Thank you, Pops," _signed Benjamin.

"_What for? I ain't done anything except talk, which is kind of funny, isn't it? I signed a bit with Clint back in the day, but it's hard to say as much with your hands, but I guess things change, huh? Don't worry! I'll teach Petey to sign, too!"_

"_Thank you . . . for everything. I don't think you realise how much this means."_

"_Me talking endlessly with everyone staring? That means something?"_

"_Yeah. I love you, Pops. Thank you."_

The look on his dad's face was almost heartbreaking, as he could see how self-conscious and embarrassed the older man looked, and he remembered then how his dad always seemed to loathe compliments and preferred indifference to kindness. He ignored the blush to Wade's cheeks and the way the older man hunched a little, as if he tried to hide in on himself, and – to spare him the discomfort – looked to Ellie and tried to focus on her dark eyes and then her lips, which looked like they were painted to match her dark complexion.

"Er, Pops said you wanted me?" Benjamin asked.

'_I was just explaining to May,' _said Ellie. _'A conversion disorder is a physical illness that cannot be explained or has no discernable reason, usually illnesses such as blindness or deafness, and it's usually as a response to _trauma_. It can last anywhere from a few weeks to a lifetime, but there's so little research into cause and treatment . . . I'll look around and do some research. I think it'd be best to find a good therapist.'_

"I – I'm not – I'm not traumatised! I had a good childhood . . . Uncle Tony lets me use his laboratory all the time, plus Pops taught me everything I know about clothes design and languages . . . I healed from everything that happened last night, too, mostly. I –"

'_You were kidnapped and tortured. That's a trauma, Benji.'_

"So I'll be stuck with a therapist?"

There was a look shared between Ellie and Wade, which he couldn't quite decipher or make out, but clearly they knew something that he didn't . . . neither one seemed the sort to have firsthand experience with therapy, but everyone had their demons, didn't they? Benjamin looked sadly down at his wrist, where he thought about how helpless he became without his web-shooters, and suddenly he had a great respect for his father. This was what it felt like to lose a piece of your body. This was what it felt like to have people think him broken . . .

He noticed that his father was waving wildly again at May, which made him wonder whether she said something to him or about the situation, but they began to talk so quickly that he struggled to keep up with what was being said. It felt like they were trying to lay blame on one another, with occasionally May throwing in the criticism that he was actually fine, and he gave a groan and sent a look across the table to Ellie, who could only shrug with embarrassment and sign back that they were arguing about who was at fault. He didn't want them to blame each other! He knew that it was his fault, but how could he stop their arguing when -? Oh God, he'd never be able to mediate again. Who would stop their fights now?

"T-this isn't happening," he muttered.

Wade waved under the table and signed that he would order pizza for dinner, which made Benjamin smile despite himself, but he could only sign back that he didn't like them fighting, which Wade tried to placate him with a 'they'll stop soon'. These were fights that could last for hours sometimes, with Wade reluctant to take sides out of fear of alienating one or the other, and Benjamin felt a sense of dread that – without him to intervene – it could cause a lot more drama between his family. He had to laugh despite himself, as at least he wouldn't be able to _hear_ the arguing any longer. It was enough to make him run a hand through his shaggy hair and push his plate away . . . suddenly he lacked an appetite.

He caught the scent of tea in the air, which made him look up and see the kettle steaming and cups being handed out by Peter, but the sight only brought tears to his eyes . . . it was painful to think that he couldn't _hear_ the kettle click or the bubbling water. How would he know when things were cooked? How would he know when the phone was ringing? Hell, what if – what if May was hurt one day . . . what if she called out to him . . . what if he worked silently on his designs whilst his sister was injured? He felt his blood run cold.

Wade gently tapped his shoulder to get his attention, before he signed:

"_May was saying she reckons you know the Goblin?"_

"I thought I _told_ May on the way home that I _didn't_ know the Goblin." He sent her a dark glare to signal her to keep quiet. "The guy looked familiar, yes, but who doesn't when your vision is blurry from the blood and tears? I just know the guy was fucked up."

'_Language, Benjamin!'_ Peter said. _'I've told you time and time again to watch what you say, but you . . . it's . . . know, May, and I'm proud of you, but that doesn't . . . need to tell us everything you know! Benjamin, why aren't you answering me? I know you can read lips, so don't start pretending that you suddenly can't. This is . . . Benjamin.'_

"You're talking too fast in places," replied Benjamin. "Plus, when you keep obscuring your mouth and looking at _May_ when you talk -? How am I supposed to _know_ what you're saying or whom you're saying it to? I wasn't _born_ deaf! Even if I were, I _still_ can't see through the back of your fu-_flaming_ head! I – I hate this! I'm tired. I'm stressed. I don't need you criticising my language when Pops says ten times worse! For the love of -!"

He pushed himself up onto his feet, where he looked around at his family, and he felt each of them looking back with either judgement or worry or a combination of both, and he _loathed_ those looks more than he loathed pity itself. It was difficult not to hate how much of a setback this was to him, but worse when he thought how May was technically right . . . this was a psychiatric illness, right? So – so why couldn't he just _wish_ it away? It was impairing his life and his familial relationships and he – he – he just wanted it to go away!

Ellie waved to catch his eye:

'_Stress will exacerbate your condition.'_

"Well, stop asking me the same questions! That guy -! He – he terrified me, okay? I've never been that scared or that hurt . . . I – I thought for a while that it wasn't going to end, just as I thought h-he might do so much worse . . . _he deserves everything that he gets_! I'd be goddamn fucking _thrilled_ if he gets arrested! Still, even _if_ I knew his name, I wouldn't give it to you. There's a big fucking difference between Spider-Girl arresting him, and Dad hunting him down out of costume, unsuspecting and _killing_ him in the process!

"He . . . he had these . . . these scars," said Benjamin with a smile. "I think he's tried to kill himself, and I – I . . . I don't know. I kept _dreaming_ of those scars during the night. I woke up screaming so hard that Dad burst in with weapons and scared me all the more, and I – I just can't . . . I just hate the thought of anyone feeling that way, no matter how much of an evil _fucking_ shit they are, and I think he _wanted_ to be killed. He was _torturing_ me to give May motivation to – to _kill_ him . . . _shit_, who the fuck thinks that way? He could have jumped in front of a fucking train, but instead he -! There's something _wrong_ with him."

'_If you tell us who he is,' _argued Ellie,_ 'we can get him help. There are hospitals for the criminally insane, not to mention that there are psychiatric wards where we can keep him, but he _beat_ you and _kidnapped_ you. What if he comes back here for Ellie or tries to hurt someone else? Dad isn't going to hurt him, if that's what you're worried about. He'll –'_

"Ellie, I love you, but that's bullshit and you know it!"

'_He's right,'_ said Wade. _'It's bullshit_.'

"See! He'll kill him!"

Benjamin kicked his stool back under the table. The devious smile on his dad's lips was enough to cement the fact that he _would_ kill the Goblin once given the name, but that was a thought too horrifying for words. Every time he thought about the Goblin – Normie – he felt a sickening sense of fear and dread, as well as violation and rage, but the idea of a living person dying in his name . . . it made him feel faint and less than human. Life was sacred, surely? He – he couldn't let someone die . . . he couldn't . . .

There was a seeming silence in the room, as he looked around and saw no one move their lips, but he could feel their silent judgement and perhaps even condemnation . . . he knew they loved him, just as he knew they wanted justice for what happened to him, but how could any of them possibly want him to reveal a name? They knew that Wade would kill Normie. They knew it! Benjamin looked to Peter, who gave him a consoling look in turn, but whilst Wade remained over-protective then it meant that Benjamin couldn't say a word . . . Peter likely felt as frustrated as he did, because it meant that the Goblin would be left to roam the streets, but the only other choice was his certain _death_. Peter also knew that they couldn't let someone – even the Goblin – be killed in the name of revenge, so he looked away sadly.

They had reached a stalemate. Benjamin knew that May and Peter wouldn't want anyone to die in their name, but Ellie would side with Wade . . . it wasn't something she would actively push for, but she would want revenge as much as Wade would, and he felt so _alone_. There would be arguing soon, as they tried to decide how best to deal with the Goblin, as well Peter's attempts at getting May to stop, not to mention Peter trying to lay blame and May trying to defer responsibility, and Ellie would be dragged into it and -! He couldn't _deal_ with this. He couldn't deal with _seeing_ the anger, but unable to_ hear_ it to intervene.

"I'm going for a walk," he snapped.

'_It's dangerous,'_ said Peter. _'You . . . only just –'_

"You're doing it again! I – I can't hear you! I can't . . . I can't fucking hear anything. Look, I just want to be _alone_ for a while, okay? I don't want to have to struggle to read lips or sign under the table or -! I just want to feel _normal_. I'll be safe. Just . . . just leave me alone."

'_He's still out there, Benjamin! You could be hurt!'_

"You want to stop me? Try it."

He raised his arms high, as if to dare them to try and stop him. It would be easy for any one of them to do it, especially when he lacked Peter's strength and never worked out, let alone to the extent of Wade, but only his father made a move to step near him. The worry on his face was one of sheer panic, as if he were _terrified_ of losing his only son, but Ellie reached out quickly to hold onto his wrist and pull him back, which caused Peter to raise a hand to his lips and let out a shuddered breath. Benjamin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I thought not," he spat.

Benjamin ran his hands through his hair and tried to hold back frustrated tears, before he stormed out through the kitchen and lounge to the front door, where he grabbed his jacket and slipped on his shoes by the staircase. He snatched his keys from a bowl on the side, before he took a hold of the door-handle and wondered – ever so briefly – what they were saying about him . . . knowing he couldn't hear them . . . knowing he was still _technically_ in 'earshot'. He drew in a sharp breath and swallowed hard, as he wondered whether it was right to run away, but knowing that he was too tired to do anything else. He needed air.

"I'll be back later," he said coldly.

He pulled the door behind him so hard that he knew it slammed, but he couldn't hear it and so it didn't feel quite real . . . it was bad enough to know that he was taking his anger wrongly out on his family, but he felt so _angry_. Benjamin began an incredibly fast walk down the street, as he ignored Preston wave from across the road, and he only paused momentarily on the spot where he had been taken the night before . . . it was all such a violation, but now he also felt the sting of knowing he was deaf. This – this wasn't _fair_.

It was difficult to say for certain how long he walked, but eventually he felt tired from the hours during the night spent healing . . . he hadn't eaten or slept properly, not to mention how he spent so long crying . . . he was tired. He knew that he would need to go home at some point, as well as apologise for storming out, but he was just so _frustrated_. It was then that someone pushed him. Benjamin lost his balance and fell against a fence, until he looked around and saw a woman seemingly screaming down the street, whilst the running man clearly held a woman's handbag. She – she was being _mugged_ in broad daylight?

He looked around in an absolute panic. There was no one else to intervene, but the guy was getting away! Benjamin looked rapidly between victim and mugger, mugger and victim . . . if he didn't act soon, the guy would get away . . . he knew how it felt to have something taken, to feel helpless and as if he didn't matter, as if he were just an object to be used and abused as seen fit . . . he couldn't let anyone else feel that way. He let the Goblin get away, but he couldn't let someone else get away. He had to do something! Benjamin lifted his arm out of instinct and shot his webbing before he could think about it, and soon the thief was caught by his legs and crashed the floor. Benjamin dragged him by the webbing towards him.

The man groaned, as his face and arms were pretty cut up by being dragged so far across the rough pavement, but Benjamin only rolled his eyes and kicked him hard in his chest, where the thief rolled onto his back and let out a cry of pain. He dropped his foot onto the man's neck to hold him in place and reached down to pick up the handbag, as the woman – seemingly on the phone to the police – ran up to him and began to pant, as she looked down at the thief with a strange mixture of anger and relief. Benjamin smiled nervously.

"A-are you okay?" Benjamin asked. "Is this yours?"

'_Thank you! Oh God, thank you!'_

"It's – it's nothing."

The woman grabbed her bag and looked so infinitely relieved, and – as he looked to her face filled with conflicted emotion – he felt a sense of _pride_ in being able to help her, as well as a sense of control that made him feel almost . . . good. In that moment he had gone from a victim into a hero, and he finally understood exactly why May recommended the lifestyle to the extent that she did. He – he could _help_ people, as well as feel good in the process. He looked to the woman and blushed in embarrassment.

"It's nothing," he smiled.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Benjamin looked at the cityscape.

There was something oddly beautiful about seeing it from high, and he realised that – even during his stays in Stark Tower – he never really _saw_ the city before. The millions of lights were something almost surreal, whilst the silence made him appreciate the sights all the more, and he smiled to see where the black sky met the horizon, with the sunset issuing forth a beautiful selection of reds and oranges and yellows. He could see why his dad always talked about the times sat with his father up high . . . it was nice.

The only downside was that his costume was rather uncomfortable, but he could make alterations later, and it didn't _quite _fit like it once did during his initial fitting . . . his exercise schedule was pretty intense; he wasn't quite on par with Wade yet, but already he was gaining substantial muscle mass and definition. It was unfortunate that the body of his costume was leather, because _leather just didn't breathe_, and swinging through the city had left him covered in sweat and grime and he hated feeling dirty. Paints were one thing, but actual _sweat_ was another entirely. Not to mention the belts and weapons and holsters were bulky and prevented a range of movements. How did Wade put up with it?

It was a relief that the weather was a lot warmer than it was, but that was _before_ he spent his first evening out as . . . well . . . essentially a vigilante. He left the criminals beaten – although _alive_ – outside police stations, usually webbed up pretty tight, but it didn't feel _right_. There was just such a _dirty_ feeling about taking the law into his hands . . . it made him wonder where the boundaries were and where the lines blurred, but even if the legal system wasn't _perfect_ . . . it was still _fair_. If everyone took the law into their hands, where would society be?

Benjamin didn't think he was cut out for the title of 'hero'.

He caught the scent of the wrapped tacos beside him, which reminded him of home and the responsibilities he held to his family, and he realised _that_ was where he belonged. A part of him wondered whether he could join the police force, perhaps the fire brigade, but he also knew that the anti-mutant sentiment would force him to hide his powers, whilst this lifestyle left him able to just _be true to himself_. It was possible that he could use Peter's old trick of listening in to police scanners, thus just catching wanted criminals and allowing justice to serve them . . . it would sure beat dealing with random criminals off the street.

"I really am lost," he said sadly.

There was a flurry of movement from the corner of his eye. He let his legs dangle from the edge, as he put a protective hand out over the taco, as he half-expected his dad to have dropped by to check on him, but a brief look revealed that not to be the case. The sight of Spider-Girl – crouched on the ledge to his right – made him smile, but he felt a numb sense that he was once again forgettable and somewhat insignificant . . . he could _see_ the material of her mask move, but he couldn't _hear_ anything that she said.

"May, I can't hear you," he muttered.

There was a slight flinch from his sister, before she let a hand rise from the ledge and pull at her mask, which she raised _just enough_ to reveal her lips. He watched her as she dropped her hand again by its twin, so that both rested between her crouched legs with fingertips pressed against the cement beneath her, and he admired her balance . . . it was no wonder that she was once a star athlete. The day she gave up basketball was the roughest day of her life, and a part of Benjamin thought that his sister _still_ craved the sport that she loved so much. It was then that he saw her lips move and read her words.

'_It's funny that even as a superhero you won't break curfew.'_

"Responsibility to the responsible, May," he said. "Dad set a curfew for a reason, so I don't intend to break it. I still have an hour to get home, so I'll be fine. It's _you_ that should be worried. You're curfew has already passed. You are going to get grounded."

'_You're way too much of a goody-goody for a guy with swords on his back! I made the mistake once of putting myself before the people . . . it sucked. A guy _died_ because I was on the basketball court instead of in costume, Benjamin! If missing curfew means I get to save people, that's a risk I'm willing to take! Pops' is away for weeks sometimes on S.H.I.E.L.D. exercises, whilst Dad always stays late at school for marking and meetings . . .'_

"So just because _they_ are late home, it's okay for _you_ to be?"

'_Well . . . yeah! Right?'_

May jumped a little, enough that she landed on her buttocks. He watched her hang her legs over the edge, where she swung them a little in a childlike manner, and he shook his head at the sight and wondered why _he_ never went through the same 'teenage' phase that she apparently was yet to grow out from experiencing. The wind blew rather hard, which drew a shiver from his sister, and he wished that he had some sort of coat or blanket to cover her with, as he couldn't help but worry about her.

There was an element of fear that crept into Benjamin, as he realised that May – for as long as she donned the Spider-Girl costume – would forever be in danger. The Goblin had a personal vendetta against their family, against _Spider-Man_ in particular, and worse was the fact that he had a death wish and didn't even try to _hide_ his suicidal tendencies. He was out there . . . somewhere. Benjamin ran a gloved hand over his mask, before he let it rest on his neck, and he felt his heart grow heavy and cold at the realisation he could lose _everything_ to a man so . . . so . . . so _psychotic_! May could die. Peter could die. Wade was already straddling the line between sanity and insanity! May interrupted his thoughts to speak:

'_Ever get lonely fighting crime by yourself?'_

"Not really," said Benjamin. "I guess I kind of became numb to loneliness after a certain point. I kind of embraced it . . . more time to design, to draw, and to sew . . . I fixed Pops' car last week and helped Preston with an LMD problem. I have lots to do."

'_Just doesn't include getting your grades up, huh?'_

"Go get bent," he muttered.

He rolled his eyes, whilst she laughed loudly. It was impossible to hear, but he could see her smile and the shake to her shoulders, and he couldn't help but to resent her a little. There was just something about her that sometimes irked him; it was always so easy to her to get good grades and do well at school, but no matter how hard he tried . . . he _always_ came up short. It may have been just a joke to her, but it was just a reminder of how he was forever second best. He ran a hand over his wrist and let out a heavy sigh.

'_We could totally team-up,' _said May. _'Be less lonely, then!'_

"I thought you wanted to make your _own_ name? You've always wanted to be a hero, whilst I've always wanted . . . I – I think I wanted to be someone else, because I have no idea who _I _am, but you -! _You've always known who you are!_ I respect you for that. I – I think . . . I think it's good that we _aren't_ a team, because you get to continue on your path, and I know yours will be a _great_ one, and maybe . . . maybe I'll find myself in the process."

'_You can be such a downer! Pops teamed up with loads of people in his time, but it never took away from the fact that he was 'Deadpool'! Doesn't Dad always say something like 'if you're confident in who you are, you'll change for no one'? I think he said Aunt May said it. I swear sometimes she possesses him from beyond the grave to impart cheesy advice.'_

"Mayday, that's great, honestly," said Benjamin with a sigh. "You and Pops are confident, so you don't feel lost or sidetracked by teaming up, but I – I'm not like you! I don't know who I am and I'm scared I'll start to define myself _by_ Spider-Girl."

'_Hey, there are worse things you could be defined by!'_

"Yeah, there are," he said with a smile.

He looked to her and realised that he would always be protective of her. It was a strange feeling, because he would be the first to admit that she matured each and every day, but she would always be his little sister and he would always feel the need to protect her from the evils of the world. Still, it was hard not to admire her passion and intelligence, just as he loved her loyalty and sense of justice, and he could see already through the costume that she had been working out more herself, so that she took her Spider-Girl duties seriously.

There really were worse things to be, with Norman Harold Osborn being one of them, and every time he thought of the older teenager he felt a shudder of fear and pity . . . it was possible that Normie would never have made good on his threats, but what if he had? Even if he never meant to act on them, what kind of person would even _threaten_ that? Did he have no conscience or soul? He lifted the taco beside him and threw it to May, who caught it and began to unwrap it less than eagerly, but – despite hating Mexican food – she would be hungry and he suddenly lost his appetite. It was difficult to bring himself to eat when he constantly thought back to that night and what he could have lost.

"Why do you call yourself Spider-Girl?" Benjamin asked.

'_Huh? Isn't it obvious,'_ she replied.

There was no sound of her eating, but he could see her trying to eat it carefully to avoid staining her uniform, and it made him wonder just _how_ she kept it clean all this time without their parents noticing her secret identity. He tried to think about the last time he ate, but he couldn't quite remember and he knew that was a bad sign . . . how was it that May could take better care of herself than he could? Benjamin smiled sadly as he realised that she was younger, yet she would always be so much more mature in some respects.

"Not really. You're so grown up now."

'_Gee, thanks? If you're saying it's an immature name -!'_

"N-no! I just – I just meant that 'Spider-Woman' would suit you better."

May seemed to consider that for a moment. There was a speck of sauce by her mouth, which made Benjamin roll his eyes and gesture to his own mouth, which thankfully got her to wipe it away on her sleeve . . . defeating the purpose in carefully eating. He looked briefly off across the cityscape, before he looked back in anticipation of whatever she had to say next, especially when the only way to communicate these days was by reading lips or watching signs and subtitles. Wade joked that sometimes he could read the subtitles and narration boxes, but Benjamin had yet to work out exactly what he meant.

'_I thought about that,'_ admitted May.

"So what's the problem?" Benjamin asked.

'_Well, I know you think I'm some big hero, but I'm not . . . not yet anyway! I'm going to work hard to become a hero that the city can be proud to have! I want to harness my skills and be the best I can be! Most of all . . . I want to catch that rat the Goblin! I want to save the name 'Spider-Woman' for when I deserve it. The second where I can _prove_ myself a woman by being responsible and being strong, _then_ I'll take up the name for myself.'_

"I – I can't get that guy out of my head. He needs serious fucking help, May! I thought he was going to -! I thought . . . well . . . it doesn't matter what he was going to do, right? I – I don't really want to talk about it . . . not like anything happened . . . let's just hope you get to him first. I don't trust myself not to kick his ass."

'_You don't know yourself at all. You're too much like Dad. If you saw him, you'd probably try to convince him to get help and give him a second-chance. It depends whether he's as psycho as he seems. If he is, I'd probably have to save your butt!'_

"Yeah, you're probably right," he said.

They sat in silence for a while. Benjamin occasionally cast glances to her, as she ate, in case there was anything further to be said, but they both knew that she was right . . . Benjamin couldn't kill anyone, but he also wouldn't maim or injure someone outside of self-defence. It would be too unjust and unfair to take someone out unsuspectingly, not to mention that he didn't want to stoop to the level of someone so . . . so -! Benjamin wondered whether he could take Normie in a fair fight . . . he was afraid to even think about it.

It was starting to get cold and the memories of that night were creeping forward, so that he felt thankful for the fact that he wore a mask. He knew that Ellie was right, so that eventually he would have to talk about that night to someone, but he just wanted to _hide_ from it in the meantime, whilst his exercising and training gave him back _some_ control, and yet just talking about him felt . . . Benjamin sighed. It could have been so much worse, but he still felt dirty and broken at being beaten and threatened so severely, and he never wanted to be the victim ever again. Never. He stood slowly to his feet and realised that he needed to _rest_, because at least with sleep he could sometimes find some reprieve.

"I'm going to go. I don't want to miss curfew."

'_Daddy's Little Boy,'_ teased May.

He glared at her through the mask. A part of him hoped that she meant nothing by it, but another part of him felt self-conscious at the taunt. He kicked at the ledge and inadvertently knocked the wrapper into the air, which required a quick shoot of his web to catch it in time, as he mentally chastised himself for nearly littering. May only laughed at him and leaned back with a shake of her head. Benjamin rolled his eyes and decided to break the awkward silence with a sincere question, as he hoped for a genuine answer.

"Is it weird I don't have a superhero name yet?"

'_Nope,'_ said May. _'You'll find your name when you find yourself.'_

"I hope so," he muttered. "I hope so."

It was a lonely feeling to think that everyone knew themselves, but he couldn't even think of a _name_ for himself, and he never felt more lost than he did at that moment. Still, there was something so _freeing_ about having no ties, about defining himself and finding himself, and he had to smile at the idea of finally finding a _purpose_ to his life. He aimed his wrist at a nearby building and shot his web with perfect aim, as he tried to weigh up his options, and he looked to May with a warm smile, as she rolled down her mask to protect from the cold.

"Don't stay out too late, Sis," he said. "See you soon."

Benjamin swung away with a sense of freedom.

He would find himself soon enough.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

'_Dude, she's a frigid bitch.'_

Benjamin clenched his fork tightly. There was a faint sting from where the metal pressed into his skin, before he felt something wet upon his palm and looked down to see blood. It dripped onto the cafeteria table steadily, until he realised just what he was doing, and dropped the fork as if he were holding onto something poisonous and deadly. He swore and pressed a napkin against the wound on his hand, before he turned his eyes back to Gene and his small group of idiots and buffoons. What the fuck did May see in him?

The boys around Gene seemed to burst into laughter, at least judging by the roll of their shoulders and the smiles on their faces, and Benjamin let out a hiss of breath. It was difficult to be back in school at the best of times, but since he became deaf . . . no one even _tried_ to communicate with him, whilst he missed most of the lesson with his teachers talking with their back to him, and he found himself nervous around people after what Normie threatened upon him. It felt like even a touch was enough to make him wince. Hell, even now was no exception. He felt someone walk up behind him, whilst – in the corner of his eye – he saw two hands clap down hard by his ear, before whomever it was walked away.

He was fed up of people yelling at him or blaring music in his ear, _just_ to see whether he was 'really' deaf! The only upside were moments like these . . . eavesdropping without them knowing it . . . the cafeteria reeked of food that made him nauseous to even _think_ about touching, and – aside from pushing food about his plate – he only had his lip-reading to fall back upon for entertainment. May sat with her friends as usual, whilst Benjamin would reluctantly admit to having no friends of his own, and the table he sat at was empty and deprived of any distraction. He needed distraction. Gene was making him furious . . .

'_You're dating her, dude,'_ said Gene's friend.

'_Yeah, but – come on – wouldn't you? She's hot,'_ replied Gene. _'It's not like she doesn't put out at all, but I just can't get her to go all the way! It's bullshit! You just know that she's spreading it around! I thought when she quit basketball, she'd have more time for me.'_

'_What'd you expect? Girl gets straight A's. Probably spends that time studying!'_

'_I've got what she needs to be studying right here!'_

'_You're getting more than most of us get.'_

Benjamin closed his eyes briefly to count in his mind. It was difficult to remember what his uncle taught him about meditation, but Bruce _knew_ better than anyone the importance of remaining calm and holding one's tongue. He opened his eyes to look about the room; the cafeteria ladies were watching him intently, always so worried that he rarely ate a bite, whilst the vice-principal was talking to his father by the entrance, and there were a couple of teachers eating with their students a few tables down. No, he couldn't get angry here.

It . . . it wasn't that he wasn't _aware_ of May's relationship with Gene, to the extent that he accidentally walked in once on a sight that made him want to gouge his eyes out, just to try and erase the image. He also knew that – whilst she was a lot more liberal than he was about relationships – she wanted to save herself for the 'right' guy at the 'right' time, as if there ever could be such a perfect person and a perfect moment. Benjamin half-agreed with Gene's friend . . . May might not have been willing to go all the way, but she was willing to do more than most, and most other guys would have been happy with that. She wasn't 'frigid', but even if she _were_ disinclined to sexual acts . . . _Gene had no fucking right to judge her for it._

'_Yeah, but you just know she's fucking everyone but me!'_

Benjamin pushed his tray far ahead of him. This was getting fucking ridiculous, because – if Gene knew his sister at all – he would know that she was the sort of person to attach strong morals and values onto sex, categorising what was okay and what wasn't, believing in monogamy and fidelity . . . she wasn't that kind of person! _Fuck_, if Gene believed that, why the fuck was he still with her? Why let himself be betrayed like that? That wasn't to mention the fact that May couldn't be 'frigid' and a 'slut' at the same time.

'_You're judging her, bro? You get around way more!'_

'_Yeah, but I can't keep the babes away! I got to give it when they ask for it! It'd be cruel to keep all this from them! Don't matter much. I got her on the side for at least _some_ fun, but Simone is my main girl now. At least she gives me what May won't.'_

'_May will dump you the second she finds out, Gene.'_

'_Nah, she'll put out first and then _I'll _dump _her_.'_

'_Each to their own, man.'_

Benjamin pushed himself to his feet. It was a miracle that no one had kicked Gene's ass yet, because his disrespect of women as a whole was pretty appalling . . . it wasn't _right_ to objectify people, to reduce them to sexual objects . . . it was enough to make him shiver in a cold recollection of that night so many weeks ago. He could _still_ feel the cold touch of metal on his skin at night, as well as hear the snap of his belt, and that daunting and overwhelming sense of dread that he was about to be used . . . no longer a human with rights.

That wasn't to mention the fact that _it was his sister being bitched about_! He swore to protect May always and forever, but to hear some jock with a grudge talk about how he was going to use her sexually and then throw her away . . . breaking her heart and destroying her trust in men as a whole . . . it was disrespect to a whole other level. It was sickening and vile. It was treating her as nothing more than a – a – a _breathing sex toy_! Benjamin felt his heart race in his chest almost painful, as such ridiculous judgemental phrases passed around his mind, not to mention the sheer _hypocrisy _of such phrases, and people still thought like this? God, he hoped Gene was just trying to show off! This was so damned_ low_!

The blond-haired imbecile pulled at his jacket and glanced his blue eyes over at Benjamin, before he nudged at his nearest friend and pointed up at him, whereby the entire table roared into laughter and began to look at him with mocking gazes. It was enough to make Benjamin look around to get a better understanding of his surroundings; the two teachers eating lunch were distracted by a conversation with the seniors, whilst the vice-principal was currently watching him with a stern gaze, and his father was talking to a couple of freshmen about what looked like a science project. Crap, at least _one_ teacher would witness this.

He drew in a deep breath and reached out for his tray. It was something he could talk about with May later in private, but he _couldn't_ resort to violence with so many witnesses about, because it would only lead to him getting into trouble. May still claimed that Gene used to be a sweet and gentle soul, so that she hoped he would change his ways and become the guy she fell in love with, but he looked so – so _smug_ and acted so _rudely_! He shook his head and decided on calming down, but made the mistake of looking at Gene.

'_\- whole family. Ten bucks says I get some by the end of the week.'_

'_I'm not betting on that, Gene. It's gross. Bet someone else.'_

'_True, bitch isn't even worth that much.'_

Benjamin snapped.

He threw his tray down hard on the table. The contents spilled everywhere, so that he was sure it made a loud noise, and already he could feel all eyes upon him. It would be bad enough that he made this kind of scene, probably worthy of detention, but Gene was just_ smirking_ at him and _knew_ that he had the reaction he wanted from Benjamin. There was no knowing his motive, but it was probably just to hurt Benjamin and to have the satisfaction of seeing the 'deaf boy' storm off. Well, he wasn't _going_ to storm off . . . not this time.

It took him only a moment to walk around his table and march over to Gene, who leaned one arm on his table and looked up with that _ridiculous_ smile of his. The cut on Benjamin's hand stung as it began to knit itself together, whilst everything in his peripheral vision went black, and all he could see was the infuriating bastard before him. He looked so smug and self-assured, whilst suddenly his friends were half on their feet, just in case the 'brains' behind their hive of idiots needed defending, but Gene only raised a meaty hand to signal them to back down. He laughed and looked to Benjamin with a mocking grin.

'_Don't worry. It's not like the deaf bastard knew what –'_

Benjamin punched before he thought.

He felt something break . . . 

* * *

/*/*/*Line Break*/*/*/ 

'_You _broke_ his jaw?'_

Peter began to pace back and forth.

Benjamin felt nervous watching him, especially as he couldn't remember seeing his father so angry before, and – truth be told – this was the first time that he _could_ remember ever breaking a rule . . . not to mention getting into such trouble. He always craved his father's attention growing up, but this wasn't how he envisioned getting it. The sofa didn't feel so comfortable either . . . usually Wade and Peter took up the space to cuddle together, or May would sit on the edge when being told off . . . he didn't _remember_ when he last sat there.

It was then that Peter stood directly in front of him, so that Benjamin could look up and see his face enough to read his words. The whole situation was uncomfortable, as he wondered why his father _needed_ to stand, because it felt as if -! It felt as if Peter were trying to establish his authority and control over the situation, which would have been understandable at any other time, but being forced to _look up_ like a submissive child made him feel patronised, and he _hated_ that he was being talked down to when he felt _justified_ in his actions. Benjamin loathed himself for his disorder . . . if he could hear then they could have talked in the car, maybe even given his side of the story. He felt ignored.

'_What's the number one rule in this family?'_

Benjamin dropped his head into his hands. He felt them shake as he wrapped them into his brown hair, until he was forced to draw in a shaking breath and tried to centre himself, but the truth was that he felt at breaking point. It was difficult to still his racing heart, even as he felt his skin run cold and his eyes begin to water. He just wanted a moment to catch his breath, to maybe process what he felt and thought, but Peter wanted _answers_. The problem was that there weren't any answers that Benjamin could give, because violence was always unacceptable to Peter, even if it was in defence of his sister's honour.

It was then that Benjamin felt his hand yanked away. Benjamin felt a sting of pain on his wrist from how hard the grip felt, whilst he was left a little disorientated from the sudden and unexpected touch, which left him a little anxious and surprised. He looked around in a mild panic, before he saw his father only inches from him and looking down. Wade and Ellie always made sure to get his attention in other ways, but Peter still seemed to forget that there were better ways than sudden grabs or movements. He sighed and looked up.

'_The number one rule, Benjamin!'_

"I didn't realise we had a specific rule against jaw breaking," muttered Benjamin sarcastically. "Pops go rogue on a mission again? _Look_ -! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I fucking hit that asshole! Still, you don't know what he was _saying_ about –"

'_I don't care what he was saying! The number one rule in this household is simple: _no violence_! Your grades are all -!'_ Peter paused to wring the air._ 'You know how low your grades are, right? You're _failing_, Benjamin. You might not even _graduate_ at this rate. The last thing you needed was a suspension! How do you plan to get your grades up when you're spending the next four weeks at home? I can't afford a private teacher, Benjamin! This is just ridiculous! Not only for yourself, but for -!_

'_I've had to take the rest of the day off to deal with this! I've had to explain how _my_ son could be such a violent person, when I'm supposed to be setting an example to a whole school full of students! If I can't be a good influence on my own child, how am I supposed to be one for the students I teach? Damn it, Benjamin! I could have lost my job over something like this! S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't pay your dad as much as you seem to think, and -! Can I even trust you in this house alone whilst your dad and I work? Will you actually study? Do you realise that your actions affect the whole family? You can't just hurt people like that! Do you know how much hospital bills cost? _I do. _I'll have to pay for Eugene's.'_

"I – I'll pay for any damage, I promise," muttered Benjamin. "I didn't – I didn't realise that I'd gained that much strength, so I didn't think . . . you can take it out of my allowance and I'll get a part-time job and -! I – I'm sorry, Dad! He was calling May names! He cheated on her with Simone! He was spreading these – these _rumours_ about her! It's not –"

'_May can take care of herself! Do you think so low of her that you think she needs her big brother to protect her_? _My God, Benjamin! Even if you thought you needed to get involved, there were teachers right there! _I _was right there! You were in the wrong!'_

"Fine, I fucked up! Okay? I'm a big, stupid fuck-up! There!"

'_Benjamin, you're being immature!'_

Benjamin stood to his feet, forcing Peter back a few steps. He realised that he was now looking down a good few inches on his father, which only reminded him of how much time had passed, so that – now he was grown – the distance between them felt more than ever. There were already a few tears beginning to brew behind his eyes, before he looked away and tried to ignore the way his father looked so _afraid_ . . . pale face, eyes wide, hands shaking . . . it was difficult. Peter wanted what was best for him, but Benjamin had messed up in such a spectacular way and Peter was likely left to wonder whether his son even cared at this point.

The truth was that Benjamin _didn't_ care. He knew that he would never be as intelligent as his sister or father, whilst his abilities as – what the media dubbed – 'Spider-Pool' were mediocre at best and would never be on level as either of his fathers . . . and after what happened to him . . . he still had _nightmares_ about it. He – he felt _weak_. He raised his hands to his head and gripped at his hair in an almost painful manner, as he tried to think about what this all meant, especially when it was true . . . he might not graduate. He was a failure in every respect.

It was a long moment before he could face Peter again, but he still felt afraid of what judgement or worry he would see on those lips and be forced to read. He took a few stumbled steps back and let his hands fall over his ears, as if trying to block out a sound, and then shook his head a few times childishly. Peter made to say something, but Benjamin didn't want to read it . . . he threw his hands up into the air in a mock gesture of surrender, as he began to pant and feel the tears rise. He couldn't let himself cry in front of Peter, not least when he was already seen as the 'problem' child.

"No," he said, "that's what you want to hear, right?"

'_No, what I want to hear is for you to accept _responsibility,_'_ said Peter. _'You were always the good child and the one that never broke the rules. I thought the biggest problem was getting you to eat regularly and study, not maiming your classmates!'_

"Well, I accept responsibility! I'm wrong. I'm always wrong. There! Done!"

'_Benjamin, don't you dare walk away from -!'_

He didn't get to 'hear' the end of the sentence. He turned his back on his father and stormed over to the staircase, only to pause and turn to see Peter walking at a cautious pace behind him, where he said something that looked like 'don't you dare'. Benjamin felt overwhelmed and frightened and broken, but Peter looked on at him with something that was a mixture of pity and fury. He rested a foot on the lowest step and Peter stopped. There was no way that Peter would follow him upstairs, but running away now would only cause problems later.

It was then that the front door opened, where Benjamin caught sight of Ellie dressed in rather casual clothing and he remembered that she had a day off from work, but – as much as he would usually love to speak to his older sister – he was _terrified _of telling her about the suspension. Ellie would be disappointed in him. There was one sister as a doctor, the other with straight A grades, and him as the failure . . . he looked down at the floor in shame, before casting a look between them. He could see the confusion and nervousness in Ellie's face, just as he saw the desperate desire that Peter felt for his son to stay put, but there was nothing more to be said. Benjamin turned and headed upstairs.

"I'm going to my room!"

He couldn't hear his footsteps, but he was sure they could. It was only when he reached his room that he tried to calm himself, although it wasn't quite enough to prevent himself from slamming his bedroom door behind him, which made him wince in the realisation that he was acting somewhat childish. He drew in a few deep breaths and threw himself onto his bed, before he shot out webbing across the door to prevent it from being opened. The bed felt cool against his skin, whilst the soft covers and duvet made him relax at once, and suddenly all his sadness ran out of him like a dam being broken. He blinked away tears and sat up awkwardly.

The tears stung his eyes as he sniffed quietly. He rubbed them away with the back of his hand, and – as he looked across his room – he saw something taped to his bedroom window from the inside. Benjamin stood up to his feet shakily. He wondered whether May or Wade left him a message, but he couldn't think of any reason why they would tape it to his window and not just tell him to his face. He walked over and saw a photograph of himself. He was lying half-naked in bed, reflected in his mirror through the window, on the back was written:

'_You should move that mirror. Perhaps close the curtains? Normie.'_

Benjamin looked between the writing and the image, unable to process just what he was seeing, but it wasn't long before the sickening realisation struck him. He threw the photograph to the floor, as if it were poison. He took a shaky step backwards and raised his hand to his mouth, whilst he desperately tried to catch his breath, but the sense of _violation_ struck him painfully and made him retch until he tasted vomit in the back of his throat, and suddenly he felt the tears in earnest. _Oh God_, just what else had Normie witnessed? How long had he been watching? Did he intend to hurt anyone inside the house?

It made Benjamin want to scream. This was his room – _his private place_ – where he was supposed to feel safe and at his most natural, a place where he could be himself and stamp his identity, and to know that someone had been watching him . . . judging him . . . that Normie could have made good on his threat at any moment . . . it made him _sick_. There was no longer any place left in his life that he could feel safe. Benjamin turned and looked towards the mirror, but all he saw was his reflection looking back . . .

He let out a cry of frustration and punched the face looking back. How – how could he bear seeing himself like that? No – no wonder that he was such a damned failure! How many times had May warned him about not closing his curtains? How many times did he ignore his personal safety? He was suspended. He was failing. He had been captured. He was – he was nothing more than a broken boy with no real purpose or meaning! How could he even look himself in the mirror? How could anyone abide to look at him? It was only then that he realised how he had been punching the mirror over and over and over.

There was blood all over the frame and on his desk. He stumbled back to see that there were only a few shards still standing, whilst the rest were scattered everywhere, he could even feel them underfoot as he stepped back again. It was then that he raised his hands and saw the glass embedded all across his knuckles and palms, where he eventually – in exhaustion and rage – had taken to slapping and pushing at the mirror in desperation, and the cuts were deep enough that even his healing factor would struggle. It would take _days_ for this to go, whilst there was no way to hide the blood and mess and gore . . . the pain was intense and made him feel faint . . . he would need to remove the glass . . . he – he would – he would need –

"Fuck. _Fuck. Fuck!"_

He fell backwards and collapsed under the window. The tears came quickly and refused to stop, so that he could taste them on his lips and felt choked by the lack of breath, and the pain across his hands meant that he could do nothing other than to keep them raised in front of him. He tried not to move them too much. He brought his legs up to hunch over, almost in a foetal position, where he began to weep silently and rested his head against his knees. It was too much. The pain wouldn't stop and it was too much . . .

"Fuck," he cried.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Benjamin swung in loose circles . . .

The office-chair was oddly comfortable, which surprised him when he held vague memories of the chair in his father's office as being _incredibly_ uncomfortable, but – he supposed – it only made sense for Tony Stark to have the very best. It also probably helped that he was _pretty_ sure that this was Pepper's office that Tony appeared to have commandeered, which left him wondering just where Pepper was and whether she knew that he office was being used for a serious 'talk'. He just hoped he would be allowed to go sooner than later.

He dropped his feet to stop the chair, where he looked over through the windows. The sight of the city was as beautiful as always, but there was something almost comforting about seeing it from behind the glass, as if the protection from the elements made him feel protected in himself, and he gave a weak smile. It was hard to imagine ever getting tired of such a view, just as he wondered how Pepper ever was able to work, as he envisioned himself being lost in the cityscape and distracted by drawing should he work in such an office, but – it seemed – Tony wasn't one for such distractions. Benjamin felt a hand press on the back of his chair, before he was turned slowly around to face his uncle.

'_Funny, I don't remember you being the silent sort.'_

Tony sat on the edge of the desk and grinned. He kept his legs crossed at the ankles, whilst occasionally he would take a nut from a bowl on the desk and throw it in the air to catch with his mouth, and he looked so casual in his t-shirt that he didn't look like a billionaire at all, but rather someone that _almost_ was on Benjamin's level. The smirk on Tony's face was a mixture of condescending and sincere interest, but Benjamin didn't take offence. It was the expression that Tony wore for everyone. It must have been nice to _know_ he was the smartest man in the building, probably on the planet, and Benjamin envied him just a little.

"I've been told I ramble when I'm nervous," said Benjamin.

'_You aren't nervous?' _Tony asked. _'I'd be, kid. It's not every day that you're set to fail high school, without a job lined up or a college to enter. I think this is how homeless people start, that or those _really_ depressing 'true-life' movies . . . Pepper tells me they're supposed to be inspirational, but I find more inspirational things on the toilet. Luckily for you, you're in the company of _the_ Tony Stark! Enough to make most nervous in its own right!'_

"Well, it's not that I'm not nervous, just . . . more resigned. I – I'm not like Dad . . . well, maybe a little . . . it's like I – it's like I inherited the worst parts of both of them . . . none of the good. A-anyway, what's the use in being nervous? It – it feels like it's a waste of energy, I mean . . . it's not as though I can do anything about it. Right?"

'_Anyone tell you that you stutter when you're nervous?'_

Benjamin smiled sadly. It was true that he inherited his father's stuttering and sometimes rambling, whilst he also got his dad's lack of consideration for consequences, and – with those – he seemed to have Wade's lack of academic intelligence and Peter's strict moral code, so that when it was all combined . . . he felt like a nervous wreck unable to really excel in any given area. He looked over at the computer monitor and saw his reflection look back, only _this time_ he couldn't smash what he saw into pieces. He couldn't hide from Tony.

This was probably why his parents wanted him to talk to his uncle, but when he looked to Tony he felt unsure what the older man was supposed to _do_ to fix his mess. Tony simply continued to chew on his snacks, whilst his goatee reminded Benjamin of a faze that his father went through, and he raised an eyebrow in a way that spoke of scepticism and something close to disinterest. The office was larger than Benjamin's room by far, actually larger than a good deal of his classrooms and anything he ever remembered seeing, and he felt a small spark of sadness that he would never be this successful. It was no wonder that his parents were probably ashamed of him . . . he was ashamed of himself.

"Okay, maybe a little nervous," Benjamin admitted.

'_Well, don't be. I'd offer you a drink, but Tee-Total Timmy might get a bit annoyed. Seriously, does your dad ever let loose? Anyway, I'll make you a deal kid: tell me why you punched that guy and I'll tell you something to make you smile.'_

"He insulted my sister. What was I supposed to do?"

'_Not hit him? Do I go around punching people?'_

"Yes," said Benjamin firmly.

Tony gave him a stern look. It made Benjamin force back a laugh, which Tony apparently spotted, as he took the opportunity to intensify his stare and lean forward at an uncomfortable proximity, which – all in all – caused Benjamin to burst out into laughter. Tony said something that looked that 'there we go' and moved back with a smile, whilst Benjamin found himself laughing until his side hurt and tears rose, and even though it wasn't even all that funny . . . it was the first time he had laughed in months.

'_You know what good things you got?' _Tony asked_. 'You got Wade's humour and his laugh, whilst you got Peter's good heart and sense of honour. You're already a better man than me, and yet you're such a kid you probably still sleep in Spider-Man pyjamas!'_

"Jealous they don't come in your size? Don't worry, you'll fit into big boy sizes soon."

'_Ouch! Let me cry myself to sleep in my bed made of money!'_

"Not as though anyone will crawl in without it."

Tony threw a peanut at his head. Benjamin laughed and swatted it away, until another one came and then another after it . . . soon he found himself swatting away a barrage of peanuts, until the carpet and desk around them were covered. He teased Tony by mocking his trademark expression back at him, as he raised his eyebrow and gave something close to a pout, and – despite his exaggeration – he felt like his captured his uncle's expression and mannerisms almost perfectly. Tony disagreed, judging from the slap to his head.

They both smiled warmly, as Benjamin laughed and nursed the back of his head, until Tony gave something close to a sigh and gazed out of the window. The silence between them was far from awkward, but Benjamin wished that the older man would say something so that he would have something to read on his lips . . . some way to break the suspense and to know what he thought. Tony was a man of a thousand solutions to every one problem, but he also knew the benefits of being practical and worked hard. He gave a lot of energy into the task of looking lucky, but – truth be told – it wasn't luck so much as dedication and intellect that brought Tony where he was, no matter what he wanted people to believe.

Benjamin could relate in a way . . . he spent his days studying wherever possible, but it never seemed to lead anywhere, and so it became easier to _pretend_ that he didn't care, because to care would be to recognise his failure and to be pitied further. It was one thing to be seen as not to try, but if he was seen to try and failed regardless . . . he wondered whether he _was_ just stupid after all. Still, whilst he always understood Tony's need to make it seem effortless, he never understood the _reason_, because – well – Tony succeeded at _everything_. Eventually the older man shrugged and turned to look at him, before he spoke.

'_Okay, my original point?' _Tony said. _'I'll give you that I _may_ let my anger get the better of me on occasion, like smashing a reporter's phone or punching a security guard in the face, but I never hurt anyone that can _sue_ me! It's just common sense!'_

"Huh, no one that can sue, right? Swear that under oath?"

'_I'll swear something in a minute.'_

Tony gave Benjamin a look that said – finally – the teasing was over and the serious talk was about to begin, and it forced him to look down a little in mild embarrassment, before he looked back up and saw a strange expression on Tony's face. He knew so little about his uncle save for what the public knew, so that he wondered whether Tony knew what it felt like to be second best . . . to constantly judge himself by his parents' achievements . . . to wonder whether his life held any meaning or whether he would find purpose. Benjamin sighed.

'_So . . . why punch him?'_

"I told you, Tony! He was insulting –"

'_May? Yeah, I heard. See, the thing is that you seem to think high school has the monopoly on asses, but it really doesn't. Fact is that you can't deal people with a punch. You have to take them out in other ways . . . dear God, it hurts me to say that. I've been around Bruce so much it's like I have my own inner doctor . . . if I tell you to meditate and try green tea, shoot me, all right? Anyway, you're a smart kid; you _know_ this. Bruce and Peter are like your gods!_

'_I've been in enough therapy to know there's always something deeper. Stub your toe? Probably a subconscious act, because Daddy never loved you. My point? You deal with shit on a daily basis . . . you're stuck fixing your family's fights, deal with your teachers' lectures, do the damsel in distress thing by getting kidnapped . . . _something_ pushed you over the edge, am I right? May's a great girl. Guy insulted her, it's like he insulted you. Straw that broke the camel's back, if you ask me, which begs the question: what's your load? What are you carrying around that's so heavy that it came to a point where you snapped?'_

"I – I don't know . . . this is going to sound stupid, but . . . did you ever just wake up one day and realise – and realise -? I – I woke up one day and realised I was just _waiting to die_, not even that I was suicidal or anything, but just . . . _numb_. My art was just a distraction, so I wouldn't have time to realise how meaningless my life was, and I used to _love_ it, but now even that feels like a chore . . . I don't feel my life is going anywhere. I know it isn't. I'm lost and I'm sad, and I – I don't even _remember_ when I last felt happy.

"How is it that I could have been _depressed_ all this time and not even _know_ it? When – when Normie took me . . . I felt so – so powerless . . . it was a reminder of how much of a failure I am, just how vulnerable and broken . . . it – it made me so angry! I just wanted to regain some control, but then – then my hearing went too, so everything – _everything_ – in my life feels like it's in someone else's hands! I feel angry, Tony!"

'_So angry that – when Gene spoke – you snapped? It probably sucked to have him say something and think you couldn't hear it, one more reminder of how being deaf is out of your control, about how everything is really. Can't even control how you feel.'_

"Exactly," said Benjamin. "I wish I had someone to blame, but . . ."

'_Right, I have one question, though.'_

Benjamin ran a hand over his face nervously, before he leaned forward and felt the chair move with him, so that he was distracted for a moment by the comfort. He leaned his elbows upon his legs and parted them for comfort, as he hunched over and drew in a deep breath to try and ground himself in the moment. It was difficult to ignore how exposed he felt, as well as how vulnerable and somewhat fragile, and an untrusting part of him wondered whether Tony would use this against him or tell someone, even though he knew better.

"Er, shoot," he said.

'_Normie? Norman Harold Osborn?'_

The question sent a wave of dread through him. He felt something in the pit of his stomach as he tried to think about when he must have mentioned Normie's name, but then followed the shame when he considered why he should care. There was a simple truth that he would have _enjoyed_ seeing the man that hurt him meet his comeuppance, but at the same time he knew that the older teen was mentally ill and that killing was never the answer, and if news got out from Tony about Normie's part in events . . . it could be bad for everyone.

"Tony, you can't –"

'_To think I was just keeping an eye on him as a competitor! Don't worry, I won't tell a soul,' _said Tony. _'Unless pillow talk counts, but it's not anything you wouldn't have said yourself. I'm guessing you kept quiet so Wade won't slice and dice Normie like sushi?'_

"Can we talk about something else? You had something to tell me?"

'_Oh, yeah, right. Let's get down to business, shall we?'_

Tony clapped his hands down onto his legs, whilst he jumped up and began to pace a little, which was somewhat suspicious. It was easy to notice that Tony had a lot of energy, to the extent that – when excited, nervous or bored – he would constantly fidget or move, almost like a schoolboy during a lesson, and Benjamin had to quirk a smile in the curiosity of what was about to be said. He half-expected some sort of lecture, courtesy of his father's request, but you could never tell with Tony. Eventually the older man stopped, rolled his hands in a strange gesture, and then pointed energetically at Benjamin's head.

'_Want to be my intern?'_ Tony asked.

Benjamin blinked rapidly and wished that Tony could sign. It was one of those things he was _sure_ he misread on the older man's lips, because . . . well . . . Benjamin was just a screw-up on his way to becoming a drop-out, which begged the question why _anyone_ would want him to work for them? He tried to analyse Tony's expression, but he looked serious. It was enough to make Benjamin open his mouth to speak, before he closed it again with a hiss of breath, only to repeat the motion like a fish out of water.

He wondered whether his father had put Tony up to this in some way, but it wasn't as if Tony needed money or as if Peter could afford to give any . . . Tony didn't get embarrassed to care about blackmail, even if Peter were the sort . . . a guilt-trip, maybe? It was possible that Benjamin was being offered the position out of pity, which just made it all the worse, because it just cemented the fact that he was as useless as he believed himself to be, only able to get a job with the help of his father and pity of his uncle. Still, Tony wasn't _capable_ of pity. There had to be something more to this than he thought.

"Er, what?"

'_You. Intern. Me.'_

"B-but I'm still – I'm still in school! I – I'm also _pretty_ sure that I'm going to dropout soon, because I have _no_ chance at graduating! W-why would you – why would you want someone like _me_ working for you? I'd only . . . I'd only bring the company down."

'_First of all, I've never met a kid so innately good with technology and mechanics! May showed me the alterations you made on her web-shooters; it's outstanding! Really! Look, I'm not saying I want you by my side as a partner, working on suits that could kill me with one little glitch, _but_ I do want you working for my company. I like your designs, too. You'll dropout of high school, then work part-time for my guys downstairs.'_

"I – I would love to, Tony! I – I mean – it's just -! My – my dad is _super_ fanatical about education, so – so there's no way he would let me just quit school, but . . . I would probably need much better math skills and some scientific knowledge . . . I don't think I'd be able to keep up with your guys. I'm – I'm just not good enough."

'_Therein lies our dilemma! You'll be working part-time for a reason, kiddo! Your dad put a few stipulations in place: your wages go straight towards a tutor, while you're only allowed to work full-time once you get your diploma.'_

"So I'll be working for tuition money?"

Benjamin raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He wasn't sure whether this was a better or worse option than simply dropping out of school, but he should have known that his father would have been involved and put conditions on it all . . . the idea of no longer being confined in a classroom was so infinitely tempting, he had to admit. There was just something so _difficult_ about being in school, aside from the bullying and isolation . . . the numbers and letters always seemed to jumble in his head, whilst his questions rarely had time to be answered, and the class were always so far ahead. It would be better this way, right?

'_You'll still get your diploma,'_ said Tony.

"I guess, but I could also be working part-time for _years_. Don't we just have to face facts that I must just be _actually_ stupid? I might never pass my exams, which means I might never get my diploma, and what happens then? I don't want to be that guy."

'_You don't try something and you won't accomplish anything.'_ Tony threw another nut at him. _'Your pops taught you that you're great no matter what. Your dad taught you that grades are everything. You know what _I'm _going to teach you? All that matters is that you try. You try and fail? So what! Go try something else! You'll find your niche eventually. The guy that doesn't try just signs his defeat! It's like surrendering before the battle!'_

It was hard not to smile at that. He always heard from one parent to just 'accept' himself and be happy with his lot, so that failing wasn't the end of the world, which made finding motivation to work all the harder when he knew it would be okay, meanwhile his other father -? It was difficult to be criticised and questioned for _every single grade_, as well as told anything below a 'C' was a waste of his time and that he should do better. He never knew where he _stood_ between two opposite extremes, and he always felt torn between them . . .

No one had ever told him to just 'try his best', but it was nice to know it could be an option. It gave him motivation to try and accomplish something, but without the pressure of believing anything less than perfection was a 'failure'. The way that Tony smiled almost made him believe the older man, which made him blush a little in embarrassment . . . it was a strange feeling to have someone believe in him. Benjamin looked down to fiddle with his fingers a little, as he tried to distract himself and gather his thoughts, whilst he drew in a deep breath and gave a very nervous smile, as he looked back up at Tony. He couldn't quite believe him, but it would be nice to believe him. Benjamin shrugged noncommittally.

"I guess," he muttered.

_'Don't guess! You need confidence! You know how I get confidence?'_

Tony winked and threw a nut into the air, which he caught in his mouth, and Benjamin – remembering a similar trick and somewhat traumatising comment over the breakfast table a few years back – winced at the possible answer to that question. There was no question that Tony had something of a hedonistic attitude to life, whilst Benjamin was quite the opposite, and he wondered whether that was actually something to mention to his therapist . . . she seemed to think his introversion may have stemmed from his lack of confidence. Still, there wasn't any guarantee that Tony's mind was in the gutter.

"Dare I ask?" Benjamin asked.

'_Hey, must you always assume the worst? You're too young to drink and too conservative to get laid, so those are off the table! I'm not sure what you think of me, but I wouldn't put you in a position to feel awkward! That'd be the hooker's job.'_

"Anyone ever tell you that you're hysterical?"

_'Never sincerely, it breaks my heart.'_

Benjamin laughed and saw Tony give a smile in turn, which was comforting to see and made him feel slightly better about his situation. He cast a glance to the windows and saw that the night was beginning to descend, which meant that the glass reflected back more of their reflections than the world outside, and there was something comforting about that. The fact that they could no longer see the city well, despite being there, made him feel enclosed and safe within a world of Tony's making, a world in which only science and machines and designs mattered, where the judgement of others was dismissed and ignored.

"So . . . confidence?" Benjamin asked.

'_I remind myself how great I am by succeeding at the best! You're crashing the night here, Benjamin, dear! You get to work on some improved air-con for my suit, because – holy crap – I think I have my own ecosystem in there from all the sweat! If you do a good job, I may just let you start work this week. I – on the other hand – am stuck with Bruce for the duration of our latest project. Fun times! Wish me luck? Oh, and a vial of your blood would be _great_.'_

"W-wait? I think I misread the last part, Tony," said Benjamin. "I'm cool working with you, it's actually a real honour, and . . . well . . . I don't really want to be home right now, especially all alone in my room . . . still, it sounded like you wanted _blood_? I – I don't know what you want with it, but – er – my pops might –"

'_Didn't they tell you? Give them a ring to check, but Peter's finally decided to up his healing factor. Weirdly, Wade's the one that took convincing. Guy's terrified we're going to go all evil doctor on them, but can't blame him! You can say no, if you want.'_

"Up his healing-? Oh! Dad wants Pops' healing factor? Really?"

_'It might not work at all, but I figured –'_

"I can help!"

Tony raised an eyebrow and looked down at Benjamin, it was a look that begged for more information and preferably an explanation, but it wasn't one of dismissal or indifference. If this were his father, he would have been told outright that he couldn't be of any help, but Tony wasn't like that . . . he was supportive. Benjamin blushed a little and looked briefly at the floor, where he toed at some stray nuts, and he realised that – for a few kind words and some emotional support – he probably would have worked with Doom himself, and he made a mental note to speak about that to his therapist. He appreciated Tony's friendship and mentorship, but he realised that what he really wanted was validation from his father.

He gave a sigh and looked up nervously, as he thought about how many years his parents had fought about the decision to adapt Peter's healing factor, as well as the sacrifice it must have cost for Peter to give up _life_ for potentially hundreds of years more than what was natural, and Benjamin knew he could help . . . no . . . he knew he could do _so much more_. Benjamin knew _exactly_ how he could help and where he could get the information he needed to make Peter's wishes true, which would help his father immensely . . .

"I – I mean I can help make it a reality."

_'No offence, Benjamin, but this requires a lot of –'_

"Scientific knowledge? I know. I – I don't want to reveal my . . . er . . . sources? I know someone working in that exact field, though! If you give me a few weeks, I can guarantee I can get you some of the information you need to make this work."

Tony ran a hand over his face, as he saw something in Benjamin's expression that made him incredibly sceptical, although that was likely because they both knew that Benjamin _had _no friends and only socialised with his family. It was clear that the teenager had thought of something in the spur of the moment, much like his dad was prone to do, and Tony knew Benjamin _and_ Wade too well . . . there would likely involve a lot of risks, as well as dubious results, but Tony likely knew there would be no dissuading him.

It was then that Benjamin jumped to his feet, where he bit the inside of his lip nervously to try and keep from revealing anything, because if Tony so much as _suspected_ that he was up to something that would get them in trouble . . . he would probably feel obliged to tell Peter. Hell, the fact was that his plan was probably slightly illegal, as well as unethical, _but_ anything that would ultimately lead to Peter and Wade remaining together, as well as benefits for Tony's company with the advancement as research . . . didn't Wade always say the ends justified the means? Benjamin ran a hand over the back of his neck nervously, as he tried his best to seem as confident and innocent as possible. Tony glared at him.

_'If this is something illegal -'_

"All legitimate, I swear! You said it yourself that I know nothing about science! You'd have to read it all through, get Bruce to double-check, and even then get Reed or Strange to triple and quadruple-check, right? What can go wrong?"

There was a long moment of absolute 'silence' between them, as Benjamin waited for Tony to say _something_, but the older man continued to glare at him. It was a while later that he rolled his eyes and Benjamin clenched his fist, as he tried not to cheer aloud, and he smiled as Tony pointed a finger at him warningly. Benjamin thought about the ramifications of getting the research that would help Tony's, but there didn't seem to be a downside in the least. This would both help everyone and get back the _justice_ that was lacking in his life.

_'Okay, but don't slack on your internship!'_

"I won't, I swear! Thank you, Tony!"

Tony looked rightfully worried.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"I want to see Norman."

The look the receptionist gave him was poisonous. He could practically feel the contempt rolling off her in waves, as she narrowed her green eyes at him and looked him over, which – when he was only _feigning_ confidence – was a blow to his self-esteem. It was difficult to hold back the flinch to his body, as he buried his hands deeper into the front pocket of his top, and he glanced around the lobby to Oscorp Tower for some form of distraction, but only felt insignificant surrounded by people in suits and looking important.

He felt like a slob in comparison to those around him, especially when even the receptionist was dressed in a designer suit with perfect make-up and hair in an intricate plait, and it likely took her _hours_ to get ready for her day. There was no way he could compete. He knew that his trainers – borrowed from Wade – were dirty and a few years out of style, whilst his jeans were too large by far, and his hooded top used to belong to his father . . . he dragged it out of a storage box a few years previous, but loved the red colouring and black web design. The thing to complete his look of 'casual chic' was his messy and untamed hair.

'_May I know what this is regarding?'_

"No. It's private. Tell him its Benjamin Winston Parker."

There was no disguising the disgust in her face. It took her a moment to do anything except stare at him, in a way that he _never_ saw staff do back in Tony's tower, but then . . . Tony was pretty unconventional and casual himself, so maybe his staff were used to such things and learned not to judge a book by its cover. Benjamin had never seen Norman outside of school, or that unfortunate incident, but he was willing to guess that he was probably quite professional in the workplace. Benjamin looked to the receptionist and raised an eyebrow.

It looked like she may have sighed, but she did turn and pick up the phone beside her, whilst continually keeping him in her sights, and – after a while – she made a face of sheer surprise and seemed to whiten considerably. Eventually she put the phone down, before turning to her computer screen and making a few notes. Benjamin felt his anger rise. It looked like she was ignoring him, which was rude enough, but he _really_ needed to see that psychopath upstairs and his patience was wearing thin. He clenched his hands together inside his front pocket, before he drew in a deep breath and let it out with a hiss.

Eventually, she spun around and placed her hands together in front of her chest, with the fingertips pressed together in a gesture that _reeked_ of a power play. It was as if she were _trying_ to intimidate him, and – frankly – it was probably a good job that he and Normie were on such bad terms, because a word from anyone close to him would probably lose a woman like that her job. Benjamin tolerated snobbery barely any better than Wade, and already he felt his heart race and his nostrils flare. He realised he _really_ disliked this woman.

'_He will see you,'_ she said.

"Great. Do I take the elevator?"

'_You will follow these gentlemen. Good day, Mr Parker.'_

Benjamin looked across the lobby to see two men walking out of the elevator, both with weapons and both looking _incredibly_ smart in their suits, and he was momentarily struck with an innate sense of fear. He realised that they would have a great power over him, and he was forced to remind himself that only a _fool_ would try to hurt someone in broad daylight, with dozens of witnesses, and surveillance and security cameras everywhere. It did little to ease his panic, but he remembered to breathe slowly and walked towards them.

They paused only to let him stand between them, before they led the way inside the elevator and began to press the necessary buttons. He stood awkwardly between them, as he wondered whether Normie churned them out of a factory somewhere, because they looked almost identical and stood with the exact same federal-seeming posture. There was a rather generic song playing in the background, whilst the walls were made of a glass that enabled Benjamin to see each floor as they went higher, and he wondered how anyone could bear to work in a place that was so open-planned with little privacy. He looked at the guards in turn to try and pass the time, as he hoped one of them would just say _something_.

"You guys like those British guards?" Benjamin asked.

It was then the doors opened. They lead him down several corridors, whilst he followed in a nervous fashion. He began to wonder whether he would be escorted back out afterwards, because he was certain that he wouldn't find his way without some supervision, whilst – the closer they got to Normie – the more he began to replay that night over and over and over in his mind. It was enough that he could feel the cold press of metal from the knife, smell the warmth of that breath . . . he drew in a shuddered breath and smiled to try and hide his fear.

"Apparently you can mock them, push them, all sorts really," said Benjamin. "They're forbidden from acting back, from what I hear. Like _smack_ -! Nope, no response! I'd try it out on you, but I'm scared I'd break an arm. You guys are _built_, huh? If I ramble, tell me to stop. I'm told I ramble when I'm nervous, but sometimes I stutter . . . maybe I stutter when I'm scared? Is there a difference between nervousness and fear? Hey, are we there yet?"

'_We're here. Do you need a moment to calm down, Mr Parker?'_

"No. No, I'm good. I'm totally good!"

'_Totally, indeed.'_

Benjamin tried not to glare at the guard. He also tried to ignore his pal to the left, who smirked a little at the sarcastic comment, but frankly he realised how ridiculous he likely seemed becoming nervous about just _talking_ to a person. It wasn't as if they knew the whole story, just as it wasn't as if he could tell them in any case, but he bit the inside of his lip at the realisation he now stood outside the office of Normie . . . Normie . . . this was the man that drugged him, kidnapped him, threatened to – to -! Benjamin shook his head.

The guard to the left pushed open the door, before the two walked forward and – a few steps ahead – waited and looked back for Benjamin. He simply looked down at the floor . . . frozen. It was impossible for him to look up, especially when he felt so light-headed and incredibly dizzy, as if the doors were moving before him, and he felt a sense of nausea that threatened to explode into an episode of retching, as he felt his throat clench and tighten. How fast could a heart race before it stopped? He drew in a deep breath and looked upwards, as he stepped shakily through the doors. It was difficult to remain calm, but he found that his fear soon shifted into anger . . . he felt overwhelmed.

It was his first look at Normie since the incident.

The older teenager stood against a desk towards the back of the office, with the huge windows behind him framing him impressively, and he wore such a – a – a _smug_ smirk on his face that Benjamin felt blood drawn from how tightly he made a fist. He drew in a deep breath, as he tried to hold back his rush of adrenaline. Benjamin could see the tip of a blue-rose tattoo peeking just underneath the shirt of Normie, and – if he remembered rightly – it was a tattoo that ran along one arm and covered his upper back and then ran down the other arm in turn. There was a tattoo of a book on his back, with the name of his grandfather on the left and his father on the right, and on the base of his neck would be a goblin tattoo.

It was impossible to see any of those with his shirt in place, including the actually elegantly written 'revenge' across his upper chest, which was incredibly subtle and stood alone without any decoration. His shirt was undone at the collar, with his tie loose and half-undone, and his hair was styled into cornrows that suited him well. He continued to smile, as Benjamin looked him over and heard his pulsing heartbeat in his ears, as a cold sweat washed over him, and he _hated_ the sight of those white teeth and that smug, little face . . .

'_Benjamin, it's a pleasure to see you,'_ he said.

There was no controlling it. The rage he felt conquered him at last, so he felt his vision go black and all he could see was _that face_, and he wanted to hurt Normie . . . he wanted that bastard to suffer as _he_ suffered. Instinct kicked in. Benjamin ran forward, before he felt huge and muscular arms around his waist and underneath his armpits, and all he could do was to fight and rage and scream loudly. He could see Normie laugh. He could see Normie _mocking_ him! He struggled and kicked at the air, until he felt something hit his stomach and the wind was knocked out of him . . . he fell to the floor and began to splutter.

'_Leave us,'_ said Normie.

'_Sir, I highly recommend against it,'_ replied a guard. Benjamin looked up at his mouth and followed his words. _'He's strong. It took us both to hold him back. You could be in great danger without back up. I would suggest that -'_

'_You are not paid to make suggestions. I can take care of myself, thank you.'_

'_Of course, sir. We shall wait outside.'_

The guards bowed in respect and turned to leave. One purposely knocked Benjamin with his leg on the way out, which sent Benjamin – trying to stand and disorientated from the blow – sprawling onto his side and forced him to land on his elbow. He hissed loudly in pain, whilst they closed the doors behind them, and slowly crawled to his feet and stood shakily in the centre of the office. It wasn't anything like Tony's offices by far, but it was elegant and tastefully decorated . . . Benjamin had expected something far worse.

"I can take you," Benjamin spat.

'_Oh, I don't doubt,'_ replied Normie. _'It looks like you've been working out. Still, following in Papa's footsteps will only get you so far, at least if I were to judge by appearance. You have a long way to go before you reach the levels of Wade Wilson. Take me, I dare you.'_

"Pops has been training me personally! I'm stronger than I was, Norman!"

'_Is that so? Perhaps I should have taken _you_ when I had the chance.'_

Benjamin flinched visibly. He quickly judged the distance between them, which included the step up towards the other half of the office where Normie and his desk stood, and he realised that the older teenager had not moved in the slightest. It still did little to resolve the fear, especially when he still held nightmares about that night . . . he felt Normie's eyes upon him, along with the memory of those hands and threats. Benjamin brought a hand up to rub at his neck and took a step back, as he realised that Normie _still_ held a power over him.

"W-why didn't you?"

The expression on Normie's face darkened, as he sent a brief glance downwards. It was enough to make Benjamin draw in a deep breath, as he felt a spark of fear and a pain in his head, as he felt himself grow light-headed and his knees grow weak. He knew – _he knew _– that he was now strong enough to win in a fight against Normie, but there was _still_ that fear about the older teen, as if they were _stuck_ in that moment still. Normie eventually looked up and sent him a dark gaze, although this time his smile was gone and replaced by an aura of seriousness. He kept his arms and ankles folded. He almost seemed defensive.

'_Why are you here?'_

"I – I just needed . . . I just needed to know _why_, Normie!" Benjamin felt his eyes grow wet with unshed tears. "I mean . . . I – I remember playing with you as a kid . . . I saw you about in school . . . I – I just – I don't -! You – you threatened to – to . . . to _hurt_ me."

'_Did I? I think I remember threatening to _rape_ you.'_

Benjamin winced and felt a tear fall. He rose a shaky hand to wipe it away, as he drew in a broken breath and tried to calm himself. It was humiliating to show such a vulnerable side to himself before the man that _hurt_ him so fundamentally, but – when he looked over to Normie – he found himself facing an impenetrable wall, one that he couldn't read in the least, and he found himself scrunching his eyes shut tightly for a long moment. There was nothing worse than to face his fear head on . . . he thought it would be empowering, but instead he found himself reliving that terror afresh. The word itself made it so – so _real_, too.

'_You cannot bring yourself to say the word?'_

"No," said Benjamin coldly. "I – I don't think I've said the word once. I don't even know whether anyone knows what you . . . what you meant to do. If – if I say the word -! It – it becomes _real_ and I can't . . . I can't hide from it! It's the _worst_ thing you could have done."

'_I am aware of that. Why do you think I _made_ such threats?'_

"S-so what? You never intended to act on it? It was just a joke to you?"

'_I needed you to be _scared_. I succeeded, didn't I? I'm not saying I wouldn't have gone a little further in my quest to humiliate you, which – by the seems of your reaction to a mere _threat – _may have broken you entirely, but I can assure you that I would have stopped short of actual rape. It amuses me that you can be so scared of a mere word. I am glad that I did stop far short . . . you're truly nothing more than a child at heart.'_

Benjamin felt the anger return. He clenched his hands until he felt the blood return, and he bit his lip until he tasted that familiar iron. There was something just so – so – so _sickening_ about Normie! This – this wasn't a joke! It made him feel something like a pit in the depths of his stomach to even hear the words 'actual rape', as if Normie were quantifying and defining 'sexual assault', and his seeming indifference to Benjamin's pain and fear . . . it was enough to almost make him wish that he _had_ told his dad the truth.

He took a few steps forward, until he reached the step that led to the second half of the office, at which point Normie smirked at him and walked around the desk. Benjamin took a step up and sat on the arm of a chair opposite, as he braced himself by placing a foot on the cushioned seat, and he ignored the slight raise of Normie's eyebrow at his casual pose and disrespect. It was hard to care about what Normie thought. He simply watched as Normie gracefully lowered himself into his chair, before the older teen sat upright with perfect posture and poise, with rested hands on his lap in a folded manner.

"Why?" Benjamin asked. "_Why_ make that threat at all?"

'_Is this the point where the evil villain reveals his plans? I needed you to be afraid. I thought I made that much clear, but it seems that you are still somewhat confused. Did you get my note? I _do_ hope it made the impression I hoped.'_

"What – _what_ – do you fucking get from this, Norman? If this – if this is some sick fetish for revenge, _fine_, whatever! I just – you didn't need -! You didn't need to go _that far_ to get back at 'Spider-Man'! Oh God, you're not even getting revenge against Spider-Man, are you? The man that you blame for your dad's death . . . he's not even a fucking hero anymore! You kidnapped me and hurt me and . . . _scared_ me . . . to get back at May? Why?"

'_The threat and the beating was to give May an incentive. I was right in my assumptions, wasn't I? You and May are the children of one Wade Winston Wilson, and that – I believed – held some benefits. Oh, trust me to have found the one daughter of a killer unwilling to kill! Alas, my luck must be cursed. You seem to think that I have some deep and complex reason behind this, which – I do suppose – is something of a compliment, but did it ever occur to you that I'm every bit the monster you think I am? _

'_I will make this simple, Benjamin,'_ said Normie. _'I wanted to die. The note was a nice touch, I thought. There's something rather sinister about it, isn't there? Oh, don't look at me that way! You look at me as if I'm crazy and don't know it, but – the truth of the matter is – I've never been in doubt about how twisted I am, whereas _you_ -! Well, you're a lost little lamb with no sense of the depths of the danger he's in, but this is the best part: the only danger to you is _yourself_. I watched you for a while. I've seen you try time and time again to cut away the pain . . . it hurts, doesn't it? In any case, I thought you would show the note to May.'_

"Oh my fucking God! You wanted to make me – what – feel threatened, _just_ so I would ask May for help and she'd come _swinging _in to kick your ass and kill you? You're – you're sicker than I thought! If you watched us for long enough, you'd know that our _dad_ taught us that killing is wrong, no matter _what_ the reason. She would never kill you."

'_I know that now. I gave up watching you, and taunting you, once I realised that you planned to bear the burden of fear all alone. Do you think that makes you brave, Benjamin? I wonder whether you have the same death wish that I do.'_

"Well, I always wanted what I can't have," Benjamin snapped.

There was a jerk of Norman's shoulders that looked like he scoffed, before he looked at Benjamin and his expression soured. It seemed that he thought the younger teenager was joking and just realised that he wasn't, which made Benjamin smile in turn and shrug half-heartedly, as he looked momentarily out of the window and tried to work out whether this was the best plan. He risked sparking an obsession or regaining Normie's dangerous attention, but he risked sympathising with such a mentally ill man, too.

'_I have never met a man so similar, yet so different.'_

"Yeah, and I've never met a man so fucking psychotic! _Fuck!_" Benjamin ran a hand over his face and sighed. "You could have just stopped at the beating! Are you shitting me? You're going to pretend like your crazed suicide attempt excuses the _assault_ threats?"

Normie raised an eyebrow and then looked away. There was an inbuilt touch-pad upon his desk, which – with a few clicks and swipes – brought up a series of graphs and charts that made Benjamin's head swim, and he felt a small blush arise at the idea that even simple _data_ left him feeling confounded. He also felt annoyed that Normie could suddenly start to ignore him for his work, when this – _all of this_ – was down to him! Benjamin made to swipe at the holographic screen, but Normie raised a hand to signal him to stop, before he minimised it and turned back with something of a sigh. Benjamin glared at him coldly.

'_I apologise,'_ said Normie.

"No! No, an apology doesn't damn cut it! Why? Why are you -? Why are you trying to _kill_ yourself? What could make a guy like you -? You're handsome, rich, smart . . . you're a prodigy that makes _Tony_ feel a little threatened. Why _stoop_ to this?"

'_Do you know how I was raised?' _Normie asked coldly. _'My father died before I was born. My grandfather died when before I could talk. I have no memory of either of them, but I have a mother that reminds me of them every day, as well as a company filled with people that sought to compare my leadership on a continual basis to that of my predecessors. I live in the shadow of dead men. I was raised in their image, being told of their legacy, until I turned eighteen and control of the company could pass to me. _

'_My mother tried to give me a normal life, as much as one can have when they own a multi-billion dollar company, and that included being sent to a regular high school. Do you know what it's like to be judged on a daily basis by your peers? I had no friends. Those that sought to 'befriend' me wanted only what I could provide, whilst those that may have had a sincere interest were intimidated. I completed post-graduate studies during my time in that school, whilst my peers were still preparing for their Regents. Now I've assumed control of my company, I'm constantly at odds with those that demand proof of my competency._

'_I have no idea who I am,' _said Normie. _'I have lived so deep in their shadows that I can almost believe I am a part of them, but who can I turn to for advice and help? They are too far gone for me to seek guidance. All I know is that Spider-Man killed my father, whilst Deadpool killed my grandfather. Do you blame me for resenting them? I never truly blamed them, for the Goblin – in both incarnations – was an individual filled with hate, but there was a sense of poetry in being killed in a way that matched those before me._

'_If I were to die, I wanted it to be in the vein of my father and grandfather. I lived in their shadow, so I would die in their shadow, in a mimicry and mockery of what they endured. May was the child of both Deadpool and Spider-Man . . . it felt fitting.'_

Benjamin tried to absorb what was said. It left him feeling conflicted, so that he felt an element of pity for Normie, but he also knew that so much of what was said were mere _excuses_, especially when Benjamin could relate so much. He lived in the shadow of his parents, but also in the shadow of his deceased aunt and uncle, and he too felt ostracised and alone, wishing for death at times, but . . . he never resorted to _violence_ and_ intimidation_ to involve other people in his internal struggles! There was no excuse for what Normie did.

He allowed himself to slide into the chair opposite the desk, although he pulled his legs up onto the edge of the seat and wrapped his arms around them. It gave him a sense of a physical boundary, as if somehow he could build a wall between himself and this other man, and he realised that what he _really_ wanted was space to process all he heard. There was no way that he would ever have thought a man so – so – so _lucky_ would feel so depressed, but that was the insidious part of mental illness . . . it hit anyone. Still, that didn't hide the fact that Normie was incredibly dangerous . . . Benjamin wondered whether he had therapy or medication, or whether he was just left alone to his madness. It was then that Normie spoke:

'_Tell me, was I right? Can you bear children?'_

"What? _Why?_ What has that got to do with anything?"

Normie gave a somewhat dangerous smirk, before he reached his hands out to place them upon the desk. It was a strange gesture, almost as if he were making a point of having nothing in his hands or no weapons around, whilst his eyes expressed something _so dark_ . . . the fact that Benjamin inherited his father's 'ability' was a sore point, especially when it had been used against him in such a despicable manner. Benjamin drew in a shuddered breath and pressed his lips together in a tight line, as he waited for an answer.

'_Well, I'm told that only biological children can inherit Oscorp.'_

That comment made his blood run cold. He wasn't sure whether it was intended as some sort of threat, but he felt the horror strike him regardless . . . it was then that the blood drained from his face, whilst he felt grateful his arms were wrapped around his legs, as he felt his hands begin to shake. Normie continued to grin, as if he had spoken solely to hurt Benjamin or just to make an unfunny joke, but – whatever his motive – Benjamin felt his sense of pity drain away and the desire for revenge return. He found again his true reason for being there.

Benjamin let his feet touch the floor, before he pulled himself up and pressed his hands against the desk for balance. The fear wouldn't leave him. It reminded him too much of the threat back in that abandoned factory, where he feared 'something that couldn't be cut away', and he felt violated that someone would even _think_ to use his body like that, let alone to actually seriously consider it or make threats upon it. He resisted the urge to touch his stomach, as if to remind himself that it was _his_ ability and _his_ choice, and now – with muscles and strength – he could _fight_ Normie away . . . instead he drew in breath and stood tall.

"Go to hell," he snapped.

Benjamin turned and began to walk away. He felt tears rise as he tried to hold in his fear and frustration, whilst he jumped down the step and made his way towards the doors. A part of him wondered whether he really did prove that his trouble in life was due to stupidity, because what intelligent person would have expected things to go any differently? The older teenager was a monster, nothing more or less, and to expect any type of real remorse was to expect the impossible. Benjamin rubbed at his eyes and sniffed with a sad smile.

"Benjamin! _Benjamin_! Benji, wait, please!"

That voice stopped him dead. He – he _heard_ it. It was deep and melodic; it was enough that it sounded almost musical and somewhat erotic to his ears, and it reminded him of certain celebrities whose names escaped him. He sensed an accent, just as he heard a break on the last word that spoke of someone _pleading_ and _scared_ he might actually leave, and _hearing_ that voice made him realise that Normie wasn't as confident as he wanted people to believe, and – most of all – he . . . he _heard_ that voice!

"I – I heard you," muttered Benjamin.

'_Can you hear me now? Your conversion disorder ought to be a temporary disorder, caused by stress according to my research into the matter, so perhaps this confrontation – the ability to face your fear – has enabled you to regain your hearing.'_

"No, I don't think so. I can't hear you now. What do you want, anyway, Normie?"

'_I wanted to apologise for the comment I made. It is an instinct to push those away that get too close, but after my treatment of you . . . you did not deserve further taunts. I will not attempt to excuse my behaviour, nor insult you for having expected more of me, but I find your presence here suspicious and your almost . . . willingness to forgive . . . frightening in what it represents. I am not used to kindness. I fear it.'_

"You – you're fucking insane, Normie! I was – I was actually _so close_ to feeling sorry for you, to thinking that you could _change_, and you go and -! You turn my worst fears against me! I would never – _never_ – do that to anyone . . . not even you! You need a therapist!"

'_I have one. One Doctor El-Amin.'_

Benjamin laughed despite himself. There was just something so funny about hearing this man – almost psychotic in his suicidal tendencies – admitting that he _was_ being helped, which only made Benjamin wonder how dangerous he was _before_ treatment. The way Normie said it so _seriously_, too, made it seem as if he genuinely thought that he was doing something _right_ by seeking help, as if that _countered _the fact he kidnapped and beat Benjamin to the point he still had _nightmares_. There wasn't anything that could excuse his actions.

"Remind me not to use them," he snapped. "Clearly they aren't doing a great job."

'_Dear me, here I thought you were above such remarks.'_

It was a comment that made Benjamin flinch back, as he felt a sense of shame that he could have mocked another person so seriously ill . . . he may have _hated_ what Normie did, but he had no right to mock someone's struggles. The shame was only made worse by the embarrassing realisation that Benjamin – unlike Normie – only found help when it was too late, when his body shut down and decided to deny him his senses, and that . . . before that point . . . he had been just as self-destructive and suffered just as much, and yet -?

_He never hurt other people in his need to hurt himself!_ Benjamin clenched his hands into fists and turned to walk away, unable to process his conflicting emotions, as he tried to juggle between fury and pity, and he wondered how those like Ms Marvel would handle it, those new heroes that seemed so close to his age, but so full of _forgiveness_. Could a true hero forgive Normie? It was only by the doors to the office that he stopped, as he realised that – regardless of what a hero could do – _he_ couldn't forgive Normie . . . not yet. He paused to draw in a deep breath and looked over his shoulder, so that he could read the other man's lips and judge his reaction. This was something he _needed_ to do.

"Oh, you're still looking for interns?"

'_Why do you ask that? Do you wish for a position?'_

"You owe me _some_ sort of recompense," said Benjamin.

Normie frowned and looked out from over his desk, clearly as conflicted as Benjamin felt, but only torn between scepticism and duty instead. He wasn't a stupid man, so he likely knew that Benjamin only asked to further his needs to some end, and those needs likely involved revenge against Normie, but to refuse would be equally as problematic. The only reason he wasn't being tortured to death was due to Wade being kept in the dark, and one word from Benjamin would result in a fate worse than death . . . Benjamin kept silent on the fact that he would _never_ sell out any living soul to that kind of pain. Normie didn't need to know that.

'_Fine,'_ said Normie. _'I know you're talented enough. I have heard Stark himself offered you a position due to your mechanical and technical knowledge . . . we do have a need for such skills. You do enjoy putting me in difficult positions, hmm? Be in the lobby tomorrow at six.' _

"I'd thank you, but . . . you know . . . I don't want to."

'_I didn't expect any less.'_

Benjamin gave a smile, despite the fact that he tried so hard to repress it, before he headed out of the doors and felt the two guards fall into line beside him, as one phoned into Normie to check that everything was fine. It was difficult not to look back, but to do so would be to admit that he _felt_ something close to being sorry for such a despicable creature, and there was _no way_ his dad would ever feel sorry for a guy like that, so why should Benjamin? There was nothing to feel sorry about . . . he wasn't going to feel bad for him . . . he -! _Shit._

He hated himself for feeling a spark of sympathy.

He hated himself more for one last look back.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"What do you want, May?"

Benjamin reached for his remote, before he flicked the television off. The room suddenly fell into complete darkness, so that he found himself blinded completely, until May inevitably flicked on a light switch and he swore loudly. It was incredibly painful to be blasted with light from the lamp across the room, even if it wasn't as harsh as the overheads, and – after a long few seconds – he blinked away the stinging sensation and felt his eyes adjust to the low-light of the lounge. May leaned against the wall by the bay window.

He noticed that she was dressed in an old pair of pyjamas, although she wore something close to a scowl and held something in her hand, but he couldn't quite make it out and it looked too strange a shape to make an educated guess. It didn't feel like worth the effort to ask her, at least not when it was way past midnight and he was lost in a marathon of some show or other, one that required little thought or attention, and he had been _happy_ for the chance to let his mind rest and obtain some distraction from his emotional conflict. The sheets laid over the sofa made for a nice nest, whilst the old shorts and t-shirt were comfortable, and he enjoyed the solitude that came with the night and the lack of arguments.

'_You missed dinner,'_ said May.

"I wasn't hungry," he muttered back, sinking into the cushions. "I've had a busy day, May. I have to be up at six today for my internship, not to mention Tony's got me studying for exams I might not even pass, and – honestly – I just want to rest. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

'_I was in bed, but I got up to use the bathroom. Pops spotted me in the corridor. He said that you missed dinner and needed to eat, so – seeing as I was up – I needed to bring you something healthy to eat. Just _don't_ ask where it's been. Seriously, he was dressed only in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt . . . it was _warm_ when he pulled it out! It's totally gross! It's wrapped in foil though, so it wasn't touching skin, I guess.'_

"Seriously? What is it? Was he waiting up especially to make sure I got it? I hate when he does that! It always makes me feel too guilty _not_ to eat, and it's always something filling . . . it's not going to be filled with fat, is it? I've got to go to sleep soon and I don't –"

'_It's a homemade muffin, I think. Ham, tomato and cheese!'_

"Great, breakfast food at one a.m."

May threw the ball in her hand, which he caught easily in both of his, and yet he noticed that she was still holding something . . . it looked like a piece of paper, perhaps a letter or photograph, but he couldn't quite see it properly. He unwrapped the muffin and looked at it in a rather sad manner. It did smell pretty good, whilst their dad was an amazing cook when he tried to make an effort, but the muffin made him feel a little sick to look at . . . not least when he could see the chunks of ham and tomato, as well as cheese melted in . . .

He sighed and placed it down on the floor by the sofa, as he _hoped_ his dad would take the excuse that he just wasn't hungry. The biggest mystery was how May could be disinterested with Mexican food and then eat such disgusting food combinations, but – as he rolled back to face her – she came over and sat on the far end of the sofa, right on top of his legs. He gave a groan and pulled them back to kick at her childishly, before she crawled underneath the sheets and sat cross-legged at the far end, before he laid his legs on her lap and muttered about how much of a pain she could be. Benjamin frowned when she spat out a tongue and laughed at him, as he hoped that he could return to a peaceful night soon enough.

There was evidently some noise from upstairs, as May looked up at the ceiling briefly and pulled a face of disgust, and he gave a tired laugh at the sight of her rather childish expression and the shudder of her body. May often complained that their parents remember _he_ was deaf, but never that _she_ could hear, but – truth be told – she spent so many nights out past curfew that the assumption tended to be that she was_ out_ of the house when . . . well . . . _noises_ happened, and Benjamin never heard them to feel awkward or embarrassed. He refrained from pointing out that – the past few nights – she was still out at this time.

'_They never did that when you could still hear,' _she complained.

Benjamin shrugged and pulled the covers up to his chin, as he snuggled under the covers and gave a loud yawn, and – from the far end of the sofa – he felt May massage his feet in a way that made him feel twice as sleepy as before. The truth was that he could think of nothing worse than to hear _that_ of all things, but whilst it was only May hearing it . . . it was pretty funny in a rather sadistic way. It probably didn't help that her room was directly opposite theirs, whilst the living room was directly underneath.

"It could be worse," he mumbled.

'_How?'_ May asked. _'I don't mind that kind of thing, honestly, but I just don't really want to hear it! You know how Dad always says that swearing is the vocabulary of the uneducated? Well, apparently there's an exception to every rule! I shouldn't need to _know_ that!'_

"Fuck, May! I don't need to know that either!" He kicked at her hand and glared. "Why not just go bang on the door or something? They'll stop once they know you can hear it."

'_Oh, trust me, someone is _already_ banging on the door.'_

"May! Seriously! Fucking stop!"

He felt May laugh through the vibrations on the sofa, whilst he saw the devilish smile to her face, and suddenly he didn't feel as happy about her predicament, because apparently any and all embarrassment _she_ felt would be shared with _him_. The room felt a little more comfortable for her company, as he felt less alone, but he could have done without her teasing and commentary on _that_ of all things, but he merely sighed and settled for being grateful that he – at least – wasn't alone and had a distraction that wasn't a glowing screen.

'_So how's the internship going?'_

"Huh? Oh. That. It's going okay," he muttered. "I – er – found out that Tony is working on advancing Dad's healing factor . . . I – I guess it makes sense, because Pops is so scared of losing Dad, but – I mean – I don't know . . . I kind of wonder whether he's thought it through, you know? I think maybe . . . I think maybe he's decided to do it for _Pops'_ sake, so he doesn't have to grieve and won't go off the rails, but – but isn't that the _worst_ reason to go through with that kind of thing? He ought to do it for himself."

'_He shouldn't do it at all! Can you _imagine_ what that would be like? He'd have to live longer than anyone can even guess, watching everyone he's ever loved die, whilst the world changes around him. Yuck! It's like a horror film! No way! I'll gladly take old age and death over that! I honestly can't think of anything worse!'_

Benjamin flinched a little at her words, even as she continued to rub his feet and occasionally pulled faces at the ceiling, and he couldn't help other than to feel _hurt_ by what she said, even if she didn't intentionally realise the effect it would have upon him. He looked through the dark room to the television screen above the fire, where he saw his face reflected back upon him, and he wondered – in a few decades time – whether he would feel the fear that his dad felt on a daily basis . . . the fear of losing a loved one and being powerless to stop it.

The fact was that he couldn't die either, which was something he unfortunately knew for a fact, and he wondered how many extra decades or centuries it would take for him to age to an extent that death would be a possibility. He wondered whether he would be strong enough to watch a lover, a child, even a grandchild pass away . . . how many generations would he see die? It was nothing more than a passing abstract to May, but to him this was _real_ and he couldn't get that horrific realisation out of his mind. Benjamin sighed and decided to change the conversational topic, in hopes he would forget the stark truth.

"I've – er – taken a job at Oscorp, too."

May's face became deathly white. There was a look of horror in her eyes, whilst her hands froze upon his feet and stopped moving, and he gave a sigh and pulled an arm out from under the sheets to drape across his forehead. He felt exhausted, but he knew from the look of her that she was _incredibly_ worried, and – if he were honest with himself – he could see why that she would be worried. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to work at Oscorp in any case, but it was important that she understood _why_ he worked there, lest she tell their parents about Normie.

'_Okay, it _can_ get a lot worse_,' she said.

"It's not that big a deal," replied Benjamin. "I'm working there part-time and at Tony's part-time, but Tony _knows_ I'm working there, too. He doesn't know the details, but he knows enough, besides it's only for a few weeks . . . I'll be done then. I'll quit Oscorp."

_'You're kidding me, right? Come on, Benjamin! That guy beat you to the point it took days for the damage to go properly! You keep telling me to be responsible, right? Well, is it responsible to work for the guy that knocked you out and took you away? He could hurt you again, Benjamin! Dad still hasn't forgiven me for having gotten you into trouble! I think he would die from grief, if you got hurt! You can't work for Normie!'_

"Oh, now you want to be 'responsible'? Look, I would never put myself in a position of danger! I – I love you guys too much to hurt you, I swear, but – but you – you don't -! You don't know what it's fucking like! I need to do this! I need to work for Normie just long enough to get access to his office! I'll be done before you know it!"

_'No way! Dad will kill me! I can't let you get hurt again!'_

"I won't get hurt! Just let me bloody explain! I –"

_'You're crazy! I'm telling Dad!'_

May pushed his feet from her lap and made to jump up, but Benjamin – despite his sleep deprivation and exhaustion – knew his sister too well. He quickly aimed his free arm and shot out a long line of web, which he used to grab her by the waist and pulled her back down, before using the strength in his legs to try and keep her pinned, as she struggled to push his limbs away and run upstairs. It took her a moment to calm down, before she pulled out the paper that she had been holding earlier, which was shoved beside her on the sofa.

'_Dad!'_ May shouted. _'Dad! Dad, Benjamin's -!'_

He webbed her mouth quickly. May glared daggers at him, but he ignored her and leaned forward to snatch the paper out of her hands. It was then that he saw the photograph of himself, as well as the writing on the back in Normie's hand, and the specks of blood over it from his smashing of his mirror. The photograph remained on the floor for days, until he eventually left it in his wastebasket and forgot about it, until _apparently _someone went into his room and spotted it in the bin. Still, better May to find it than Wade.

Luckily, no one had came downstairs, which meant that they likely didn't hear May over their rather . . . depressingly vocal . . . activities. He sat up and ripped the photograph into dozens of shredded pieces, whilst he lifted the muffin to wrap the pieces inside the foil, as he dropped it beside him and made a mental note to dispose of it later. May, meanwhile, began to pull at the webbing, before she eventually managed to remove it and found it sticking to her fingers and palm, as she tried to remove it entirely, although she only seemed to get it stuck to more skin in the process. Eventually she took to wiping it off on his leg, which made him sigh and glare at her, although she only glared back.

_'Why is that stuff always so sticky?'_

"It's the same as yours, May! The only difference is that it's organic and not artificial! Look, I can explain, May, but I can't explain to Dad and Pops, not if they find out what happened that night! Did – did they hear? Are they coming down?"

'_No . . . let's just say . . . if I can hear them, they can't hear you.'_

"They're still -? How long does -?"

Benjamin blushed and ran a hand over his face. It was moments like these where being deaf was a blessing, but – then again – they would _never_ have been so . . . so . . . so _vocal_ had he been able to hear, which would mean that May would have _nothing_ to comment upon. He felt like burying his head in the cushions and hiding away from the embarrassment, but then it would be impossible to talk to May without seeing her lips. He gave a heavy sigh and sat upright, cross-legged as she was, before he ran a hand through his hair awkwardly.

"Look, I have a plan, okay?"

_'You have a plan? That's why you're working for Normie?'_

"W-well, yeah, kind of," he mumbled. "I – I needed . . . I needed closure, May! You don't – you don't know how scared I was . . . you don't know what he said . . . I'm – I'm talking about it to my therapist, b-but I just – I just can't talk about it with you yet. That note . . . it terrified me, May! I was scared and alone and I felt like there was this black cloud over me, like I was never going to be safe ever again . . . I kept thinking that he might come into my room, or maybe hurt someone I cared about, or that he might -!

"I went first of all to get – I don't know – an explanation? A part of me thought he might be able to give me an answer, something that would make it all make _sense_, but he – he _couldn't_. I just realised . . . he's fucking messed up! I – I don't know . . . I – I feel sorry for him, because apparently he . . . _he wanted to die_ . . . he was hoping to piss you off enough to make you _kill_ him, but -! I _hate_ myself for feeling sorry for him! He violated me and hurt me and I -! Is there something _wrong_ with me for wanting to know why? Is there something wrong about me for still . . . still _caring_ about him? He destroyed my trust and I -!"

'_Hey. Hey! You don't have to start that game, Benjamin! Okay, first of all, Normie doesn't owe you anything! He's sick and he hurt you, and – no matter how much he might be ill – it doesn't excuse what he did! I'll lock him up once I catch him, I swear, but -! You have every right to feel what you feel, you know? It's not as though there's a book with rules about how you're supposed to react. Just don't . . . just don't beat yourself up over it.'_

"I – I know . . . I mean I know _logically_, but it's different here, you know?" Benjamin tapped his heart and sighed. "I just don't know _how_ to feel, but I'm – I'm so _angry_ right now! I'm angry with him for hurting me, angry with myself for being hurt . . ."

'_Do you want to talk to Dad? He might get it.'_

Benjamin allowed himself a small smile. A part of him knew that his father _would_ understand it, much better than May realised herself, as he remembered a conversation as a child – when Wade panicked about an incident with Benjamin and another boy – Peter giving a very long talk about how he could say anything to him. There genuinely hadn't been anything to worry about, but the conversation always _stuck_ with Benjamin nonetheless. He remembered Peter's story about what happened to him, as well as the effects it still held, and he knew – to this day – that Peter would understand, and yet . . .

How could he say anything? He still couldn't quite process what happened, and – in a way – he felt as if he were trivialising his father's horrifying ordeal _by_ reacting so strongly, knowing what happened to him didn't even come _close_ to _that_, but . . . he also knew that May was right. There wasn't a way to quantify pain. There wasn't a right or wrong way to react, just as he knew that he couldn't compare himself to someone else . . . it wasn't as if these things were defined or given degrees of validity . . . they were all valid, but . . .

"I can't talk about it yet, May," he said.

_'That's cool, honestly. I can get that. Still, if he so much as –!'_

"May, I – I can't talk about it right now! He – he didn't do anything, but I . . . I don't think he would have done anything. Still, just the thought of it -!" Benjamin shook his head with a sigh. "Look, it's why I decided to work part-time for him, alright?"

'_Yeah, you're going to have to talk me through that one.'_

"Seriously? I thought it'd be –"

There came a noise that sounded like his dad's name. It was enough to make Benjamin jerk and look around, as he wondered whether someone had finally broken into their home, maybe even the Goblin himself, but he realised – in a matter of seconds – that his hearing was still absent and he could hear_ nothing_. It was either his imagination or someone had said something, and not knowing which . . . it disorientated him, so that he felt a little dizzy and confused searching for a source that couldn't be found.

_'What's up now?'_

"I thought I heard something. Never mind."

He shook his head and looked back to May, who looked up at the ceiling and then back to him quizzically, and – suddenly _really_ hoping it was in his mind – he felt himself blush and pulled his legs up to his chest, as he wrapped his arms and the covers around himself. It was enough to remind him to keep his voice down, as this wasn't a conversation that he wanted anyone to overhear, and he lowered his head so that his chin touched upon his knees, whilst he tried to calm himself enough to explain to May just what he planned. There was no doubt that she would tell their parents without a good enough reason.

"I – I want to get back at Normie, alright?"

'_Hey, I think we _both_ want to get back at him for –'_

"No, just listen, May, please," he begged. "You – you know how Uncle Tony's working to help Dad get his healing factor improved, well . . . well, you know _what_ Oscorp does, right? I – I know that they claim to have stopped that side of their research, but . . ."

'_Heck, you're serious? There's no way they could still be doing those kinds of -! I thought they closed all that down back when Harry was still alive? You know, I totally heard Dad say that's where he got his powers! I think he had the x-gene anyway, which is probably why – you know – you got the webbing, but still -! Radioactive spiders!'_

"W-well, they kept _records_ of those experiments, May! I – I don't _know_ the details, because – because we both know . . . I'm not _smart_, May, I'm just _not_, but I heard Dad say that the experiments were programmed to _Parker_ blood! Not even Oscorp knows this! If – if I can get a hold of those records, as well as any _recent_ experiments into healing and regeneration they might have -! Tony can _combine_ those with _his_ research! He'd be able to adapt Dad's healing factor _overnight_! He – he could even _help_ people worldwide!

"I figured it would kill two birds with one stone, you know? Normie -! He – it's -! It's like he's in my head, May! I – I hate what he's done_ so much_, but I can't hate _him_ when I know he's so . . . so . . . so ill. A part of me almost relates to him . . . how fucked up is that? I don't believe in disproportional violence or killing, no matter what, and the idea of seeing him in court for what he's done . . . I think he needs _help_, but I – I still want to see some sort of _recompense_! I _need_ justice or karma or -! I figured stealing his research could _be_ that cathartic thing I needed. Imagine how much it'd _hurt_ him to know we've beaten him to -!"

Benjamin clenched his hands around his forearms, as he hugged his legs tighter against his chest, and looked sadly at her for some sort of acknowledgement. The idea of Normie simply going _free_ angered him more than anything. He couldn't erase the memories of that night, as well as the constant fear that he felt every single night, and yet he knew – _he knew – _that he could take Normie easily now! He knew in his mind that he was strong enough, but somehow every time he thought about that night . . . it was as if he were his younger self again.

He wondered whether it was wrong to want some sort of payback. It would _help_ to regain some control, wouldn't it? If he could just _prove_ that _he_ was the one with power now, then he would never have to feel that fear again . . . the idea of having Normie in the background of his life, laughing at him from afar, it was unbearable. It was made worse by the very idea that he could – he could . . . he could _sympathise_ with someone like Normie, because what did that mean about him? He shouldn't be able to _feel_ for the person that used him, should he? Did that make him sick in turn? If he could _hurt_ Normie, it would prove that _he_ was the one with power and that he _didn't_ forgive his actions. He couldn't.

'_Revenge isn't the same as justice,'_ said May.

It made him jump to see that May was speaking, as he sincerely hadn't realised that he had been staring at her mouth and lost in his thoughts. There wasn't anything wrong in wanting some revenge, was there? It wasn't as if he were beating Normie or killing Normie, he wasn't emotionally manipulating or threatening him, and this was only financial and nothing more, and it wasn't as if Normie couldn't _spare_ some change. Normie would be _humiliated_ to know his research had been stolen, perhaps even feel violated, and he would be angry that someone could use it to make a profit against his wishes . . . it felt almost apt in a way.

He wanted to look away from May, but it was impossible to look away and 'hear' what she said at the same time, so instead he looked at her lips and tried to remember when he last saw her looking so stern. If he remembered correctly, it was around the time she broke up with Gene and revealed that she was now dating his best friend . . . Benjamin was grateful to drop out of school the following week, as Gene had taken it out on _him_ instead. Clearly, May thought this was serious and that he was in the wrong. He wondered whether she was right.

"I don't know what you mean," Benjamin muttered.

_'Yes, you do! Justice would be arresting him and taking him in, then seeing him fairly get exactly what he deserves! This is just you trying to get revenge to make yourself feel better. Didn't you teach me better than that?'_

"May, I just -!" He drew in a shaking breath and felt tears rise. "I just want to be happy again, don't you get that? I can't even remember when I last felt genuinely happy! He – he hurt me and I know – I know revenge won't take back what he did . . . I know it won't make it go away, but -! Shit! I just want to get back some of the control! I don't want to live in fear because of what he did! I want -! I want my life back."

'_Stealing his research and making money from it . . . you'll hurt him financially and wreck his trust, but you _know_ that you'll still feel violated. It won't change what happened to you. Plus, I _know_ you, Benjamin! You'll _hate_ yourself for lowering yourself to his level! You'll be guilty, because you hate to _hurt_ people, even when they are bad people!'_

"You – you don't know how I feel, May! You don't!"

_'If you just accept what happened, you could -!'_

"I can't fucking accept it, okay!"

He shot a hand to his throat. It was strange to shout at her like that, especially so loud that he could feel his throat grow sore and ache under the volume, and he shot a terrified glance at the ceiling above, before looking at her. She raised a hand to her lips to signal him to be quiet, before saying something that looked like their dad was shouting at them to be quiet, and he knew that – if he shouted again – their parents would be downstairs in an _instant_ to see why they were fighting. Benjamin rubbed at his throat nervously.

It was difficult to remain calm when he _knew_ that May had never experienced anything like that before, that the extent of her 'understanding' was a slashed stomach and the need to protect her brother from similar pain, and he _hated_ that she could presume to know how he felt, when . . . when even _he_ couldn't understand. He realised that his hand was shaking, just as he felt a lump appear in his throat, and he swallowed several times to clear it. There was a cold sweat over his body, whilst his eyes stung with unshed tears, and he wanted to cry and he wanted to sleep, but _there she was_ and everything he said . . . hurt her. The idea that he could hurt his sister was _devastating_, but he couldn't listen to her any longer. He couldn't.

"I can't accept it," he mumbled.

'_You won't be happy until you do, Benjamin! You can't just magically make yourself happy! Heck, you can get revenge all you want and change everything around you, but you'll still be you and you'll still have to live with those memories! You have to deal with them –!'_

"You don't fucking get it, May! You don't understand! Just – just go away!"

_'Well, why don't you tell me? I'd get it! I can totally -!'_

"May, just go the fuck away! Please!"

He saw his sister's face fall. It was painful to see, because he was the one that was supposed to be strong for _her_. He remembered bandaging her wounds, as well as crashing in her room when she was upset over her break-up, and he remembered bringing her breakfast in bed whenever she was sick, but now . . . now _he_ was the one in need of help. How did he deal with that? He was the older sibling! He shouldn't have _needed_ to be rescued, just as he shouldn't be crying in front of her, but he was . . . _broken_.

The tears were becoming harder to hold back, but he didn't want her to see him crying or vulnerable, especially when he was trying so much harder to be _stronger_, but a part of him wondered whether she was right. He could bulk up, he could study, just as he could even get revenge against Normie, but . . . the _memories_ would still be there . . . he wondered whether 'accepting' it would be best, but -! How? _How_ could he 'accept' something so horrible? May didn't understand! She didn't understand how the nightmares came, just as how he still flinched at certain sights and felt nervous around certain people . . . it affected his entire life, but May -! What? He was just supposed to 'get over it'?

May eventually stood up and adjusted the covers behind her, so that Benjamin was essentially tucked in and comfortable, and yet he couldn't help other than to feel _lost_ around her. It was true that he probably wouldn't feel happy, unless he was happy with himself, but he was just so _angry_ with Normie and so – so -! He drew in a deep breath and looked up at her. There was no way that they would resolve this tonight, but at least he knew that she would keep quiet enough for him to steal the data and research, and maybe . . . maybe when it was over, he would finally have the closure he needed. May pouted and folded her arms.

_'Fine, I'll go, but don't say I didn't warn you!'_

"Whatever," he mumbled through tears.

'_Well, goodnight, I guess.'_

He watched her leave, before he threw himself on his side. It was difficult to keep his emotions under control, even as he curled up into a foetal position and _wished_ for someone to just comfort him, but comfort from May would feel hollow, when she didn't _understand_ his pain, and whilst Peter and Wade might understand . . . he couldn't _tell_ them. The room suddenly felt far colder, whilst the lamp remained on and reminded him of how empty the space felt without any company. He suddenly found himself doubting his plan.

He fell asleep to his tears . . .


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_Ninety-five percent . . . _

The screen lit up the room in a rather eerie manner, so that he could see the images reflected back at him whenever he turned to look out the window, and it cast strange shadows about Normie's rather minimalist office. He could see a few abstract paintings on the walls, as well as a couple of plants, but otherwise the office was empty, which made Benjamin feel a little . . . guilty. It made him wonder whether Normie defined himself by his _work_, and – if he did – stealing his work would be like stealing a part of _Normie_. It felt wrong.

The desk itself was empty, devoid of any personalisation, and even in the _drawers_ themselves there were no signs of _life_ . . . just paperwork and stationary . . . a photograph of a middle-aged blonde woman sat upon the desk, with another of Normie's grandfather standing beside his father during graduation, but nothing more or less. Those couldn't be the only people that mattered to Normie, right? Surely he had more in his life worth remembering than two dead relatives and – what was very likely – his mother? Damn it, May was right, this – this didn't _feel_ right, because the very office itself reminded him that . . . that Normie was _ill_.

Benjamin sighed and pulled at his hood nervously, as he tried to keep his face covered as much as possible, but his outfit – entirely in black, with fingerless gloves – probably only served to make him more conspicuous as he darted between hallways on his quest to get to the office. It surprised him how much a mere intern's ID card afforded him, but that only made him all the more suspicious . . . it was likely that Normie didn't trust him, which meant that his card was likely being monitored, and – in that case – someone would probably be in the office _very_ soon to have their suspicions confirmed. He toed at a spare USB pen on the floor, hidden out of sight behind his messenger bag. It reassured him to feel it underfoot.

"Come on," he murmured to himself. "Come on, nearly done!"

The last few percentage points seemed to move slowly, enough that he gave into temptation and began to surf through the files on the computer for a brief idea of their contents, although there would be no way to understand them without Tony or Pepper. It was difficult to make heads or tails of a lot of what he saw, with graphs appearing on the holographic screen as if their sole purpose was to taunt him, and occasionally data and essays would crop up to equally confuse him, but – flicking through – he spotted something interesting. These weren't the work of mindless company drones . . . most were by Normie himself.

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me," he snapped.

He closed the windows with a scowl. It was difficult to endure the thought that Normie could be only a few years older, yet so much more intelligent, and Benjamin realised that the older teenager really was a prodigy that _deserved_ his position in the company, and yet it was so _infuriating_! Normie – Normie could have spent this time _helping_ people, in a way it looked as if he _may_ have been using his research for that, but instead he spent his time assuming the identity of the Goblin and – and -! What? He _hurt_ Benjamin so deeply, but he -!

There was a feeling of a breeze from the office doors, which he left open just slightly in order to provide himself some knowledge of any possible guards, because – in the absence of hearing – he would at least be able to see their shadows, but there looked to be no one there. It made him feel nervous, as he felt so vulnerable without his hearing or a spider-sense, but he drew in a shaking breath to steady himself. He let his hands return to the touch-pad upon the desk, as his eyes ran across the screen, and he strove to try and calm his racing heart, even as a part of him remembered that this _probably_ was the sort of thing that could lead to prosecution. It was then that he tasted blood, as he realised he had bitten his lip in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Luckily, he saw the download was complete.

"Thank God," he sighed in relief.

"Yes, thank God indeed."

Benjamin jumped to his feet in fear. The fact that he _heard_ the voice was terrifying enough, almost as much as the ensuing silence that reminded him he wasn't quite healed yet, and he was forced to look around in a blind panic for a few seconds. It was difficult to judge where the voice came from, but soon enough he saw Normie by the open doorway. He – he hadn't been paying enough attention to the door! Benjamin stumbled back a few steps, before he looked momentarily at the USB drive, drawing Normie's attention to it.

'_It's strange, but I thought for a while I could trust you.'_

"Now who's lying, Normie?"

The older teenager looked rather casual, but that may have been due to the fact that it was out-of-hours and Benjamin snuck in during one of Normie's breaks. He wore a dark shirt that was open quite low, enough to reveal the tattoo on his chest, whilst his arms were folded just a little above his stomach . . . Benjamin noted how he leaned against the wall, with one leg pressed against it and the other on the floor . . . he looked so – so – so _casual_. It was almost easy to feel sorry for him, as he looked so vulnerable . . . so _human_ . . .

Benjamin shot out a web to the USB pen, as he yanked it out and towards him, but – careful to make it look natural – he fumbled as the pen entered his grasp, before he dropped it to the floor with the webbing forming a long line from the pen to his wrist. He dropped down and quickly detached the pen from the line of web, before sliding it into a side-pocket of his bag, and then quickly stuck the end of the webbing to the spare pen and stood back up with spare pen in hand. He jumped to see that Normie was currently on the other side of the desk.

It was difficult to endure the look that Normie wore. It was just so . . . so _disappointed_! Benjamin clenched the pen in his hand until he felt a shred of pain, but he forced himself to remember that he felt _much_ worse at the hands of this man, and so there was no reason to feel guilty at having been caught in such a compromising position. Still, this was _beneath_ Benjamin. He was the guy that caught wanted criminals and left them outside the police station, where they could be tried in a court of law, and he was the guy that strove to always put his family first and to never hurt another person. This – this felt _wrong_, but at the same time . . . wasn't what Normie did wrong, too?

He hated this sense of conflict, almost as much as he hated the idea of stealing from one that was so mentally ill, so lost in depression, and he wondered whether he was confirming Normie's worst fears . . . reminding him that he _was_ alone and that people _couldn't_ be trusted. It – it frustrated him that he could _feel_ for Normie, but maybe that was the difference between them, and if that were the difference between them . . . what was he doing by becoming _like_ Normie and hurting him intentionally? He didn't want to be that person.

"I'm – I'm sorry, Normie, but you -!"

'_I would ask that you hand that over, Benjamin.'_

Benjamin lifted his hand, with the webbing dangling from his wrist to his palm, and made a show of looking sadly at the pen in his hand. He wondered for a brief moment whether to retrieve the real pen, but he still felt so _conflicted_ and wanted to regain control over his life, and – until he knew how he felt and what he wanted – he _needed_ some sort of small satisfaction that came with knowing Normie wouldn't get away totally free. It took him a while, but eventually he sighed and stretched out his hand, before he turned his palm upwards and opened his hand, as he invited Normie to take the pen from him.

'_Will it hurt you to pull your webbing?'_

"N-no," said Benjamin. "I'll just feel a tug of pressure."

'_Well, that's something, isn't it?'_

It was hard not to wince as Normie wrenched the pen from his hand, even when there wasn't any real pain from the webbing that was torn from his wrist. He watched a little as he saw Normie examine the pen in one hand, even as the webbing caught on the back of his hand and stuck there, and he gave a small sigh and came around the desk and sat down in his chair. There was a slight lack of colour to Normie's usually darker skin, whilst Benjamin noticed that he refused to make eye contact with him in the least. Did Normie feel . . . betrayed?

'_Is the webbing always so warm?'_

"W-what did you expect?" Benjamin lent against the desk. "It's – it's from my body, Normie! Despite all the _stupid_ innuendos over the years, most things stored inside the body will tend to be warm, yeah. If I knew it would gross you out –"

'_I not "grossed out" by your webbing. I was merely making an observation, but if I have somehow offended you . . . well . . . I would apologise, but I once heard it told that it is fine not to show gratitude – so long as one does not wish – and I can only assume that extends to apologies, too. I must say it again: I thought you were above stealing.'_

"Yeah, but I thought you were above _kidnapping_ and _beatings_."

'_I guess we were both wrong,'_ said Normie bitterly.

Benjamin drew in a hiss of breath. He looked away to watch Normie's reflection in the windowpane, unable to look him in the face, as he felt a fury unlike any other that someone could compare a complete breach of human rights to _stealing_ _data_. The racing of his heart made him feel uncomfortable, especially when combined with the nervous sweat over his body, and he closed his eyes tightly for several seconds to regain his composure, until he turned his head to look at Normie properly.

The older teenager inserted the USB drive into the slot on his desk, before he brought up a screen and began to look through various folders. It looked authentic enough to Benjamin's eyes, as it was one that he had used for some years, with various essays and art designs and photographs of costumes . . . it would hopefully make it seem as if he tried to download and failed, which was enough to get him out of the office unharmed. The only problem was that when Normie flicked through a video appeared, one that quickly made Benjamin turn red and side-sweep the screen to get rid of it, before he withdrew the drive and threw it across into a trashcan nearby. He dreaded to _think_ what Normie thought of him.

"Okay, I swear that was _not_ there when -!"

'_It was labelled "Happy Eighteenth",'_ said Normie. _'You truly have a rather unusual parent, Benji, although I'm more surprised that you failed to download the files you needed. I was gone long enough that you could have downloaded them easily.'_

"Look, I – I tried, alright! I couldn't . . . I _think_ I found them, but I – I couldn't make sense of the data and I -! What was I_ supposed_ to do? It's not as though I could download everything on the off chance it was the right file! I don't even know what I was looking for, not really, and -! If I'm honest . . . I – I was thinking of giving the data to Stark Industries, but -! God, I fucking _hate_ what you did, Normie! I do, but the idea of cheating you like that -!"

'_I suspected that you were up to something when you asked for a position here. I expected perhaps false accusations or blackmail, which would have been what I perhaps deserved, but to steal data that I spent a lifetime working upon? My, you really _do_ have a dark side. I guess you take after Daddy Dearest after all. Tell me, do you have a bidder in mind?'_

"I'm not like you, Normie! You – you fucking _drugged_ me and _took_ me, then – then – then _beat_ me and threatened to _rape_ me!" Benjamin shot a hand over his mouth. "Oh God, I – I can't believe I just fucking said that. I can't believe I said it . . ."

'_Hmm? Why not? It's certainly true,'_ said Normie.

"It also sounds so – so -!"

Benjamin retched a little, as he drew in desperate breaths. The hand over his mouth provided a small comfort, as he tried to control his breathing and slow down his heart, but his throat continued to clench and choke him. It took a while before he realised that he had come to fear the word itself, as if to admit the fear was to somehow make it real . . . had he really given such power over to Normie? It was humiliating to admit, but just the _thought_ of what could have happened left him feeling helpless and sick. Normie did that to him. _Normie_.

"Look, you have no _right_ to judge me."

Normie gave a sigh and pushed back his chair. He stood tall, a good inch or so taller than Benjamin at the least, but the younger teenager refused to allow himself to be intimidated. This – this -! This would be the last time that he let Normie scare him or threaten him, just as it would be the last time that he let himself feel afraid to admit what really happened, because he wouldn't let someone like _Normie_ have power over him any longer. Normie had threatened to _rape_ him, just as he _hurt_ him, and whilst at one point Benjamin had been powerless . . . he wasn't powerless anymore. He stepped forward so that their chests touched.

"You have no right at all," said Benjamin.

The other teenager leaned down, as if to try and regain some control, and the invasion of Benjamin's personal space sent a spark of panic through him, even as he hated himself for feeling that fear at someone as despicable as Normie. He stood his ground and tilted his head to look up; he saw that Normie looked somewhat taken aback and almost nervous. It made Benjamin draw in a shaking breath of disbelief, as he realised that Normie feared him for the revenge he could exact, whereas he feared Normie for what he represented.

"No right," he muttered lamely.

'_I never intended to go that far,'_ said Normie. _'I never claimed to be a good man, in fact I _know_ that I'm not, but it was for that reason that I admired you. You are everything that Spider-Man embodies: justice, fairness . . . forgiveness. Perhaps it is good that May inherited the mask, because you no longer seem worthy of it.'_

"What -? What the _fuck_ did you expect me to do? I'm not going to roll over and take your shit, Normie! I might have at one point, but not anymore! I'm – I'm stronger than that now! I've learned to fight, to stand up for myself -! I – I won't lie . . . I'm not – I'm not confident, but -! I – I'm _getting _there! I know you had no right to hurt me, and I can finally _say_ that, too! I'm growing and -! I – I want to be a good person, but I don't want . . . I don't want to be someone that always gets _hurt_. I don't – I don't like _feeling_ that way. I'm not a victim."

'_No, now you're a thief. I was once told that a victim is a person that _allows_ themselves to be hurt . . . I am no psychologist or philosopher to say whether this is true, but – as much as I hurt you – you never asked for what happened or allowed for it. Now? You have let me inside your mind, and instead of fighting to overcome your pain . . . you _wallow_ in it. You have let it grow into an obsession. You have become what you hate most.'_

"Don't you _dare_ make this about me!" Benjamin slapped a hand on the desk. "Don't emotionally manipulate me! I'm still trying to get over what you did! I messed up, fine, but at least I _accept_ that! Why don't you tell me when _you'll _accept fucking responsibility?"

'_Let's not fight, Benji. Two broken people can never fix one another.'_

"Great, least we can agree on that," he spat.

Benjamin realised that he could feel Normie's breath upon him. They were standing close, _too_ close, but to step away felt like it would be to accept defeat. He wouldn't walk away now, because there was _no_ way that he would let Normie have that power over him, but he could feel the warm moisture of breath on his nose . . . he could even feel the rise and fall of the other man's chest. The rage he felt was beyond anything he had ever experienced, and – as he clenched his fist – he felt the fabric of Normie's trousers against his knuckles.

It was an awkward moment between them, until Normie drew in a deep breath and leaned forward another half-an-inch. Benjamin licked his lips nervously, as he felt the other man's nose against his own, and he felt his heart begin to race in uncertainty. He wasn't sure _what_ to feel, but this -! This was too intimate. It reminded him of fights between his parents, which invariably ended with both at a stalemate, and – unless his dad left unable to cope – they would always end up _just like this_, before – before -! _Fuck_. It was one thing to feel _sorry _for the psycho, but he did _not_ have any kind of attraction to him! It was then, as Benjamin began to chew his lip anxiously, that Norman broke the silence and spoke.

"You're fired, Benjamin," said Normie.

Normie stepped backwards. It was enough that Benjamin felt disorientated and confused, not least because he _heard_ those words spoken so coldly to him, with a hint of disappointment. He looked around, only to see the computer screen now gone and Normie standing with arms folded, and he felt . . . he felt _insulted_. Did – did Normie think it would be that easy to get _rid_ of him? He wasn't just some loose end that needed cutting! He was a human being, one that _deserved_ recompense! He deserved more than a cold parting!

"You're shitting me, right?"

'_No. Go back to Stark. You have no place here.'_

He watched as Normie turned around, as proof of his dismissal. It was dark now without the screen, so only the lights from the city outside illuminated the office through the three large windows, and the crack from the door only allowed in a small iota of light. Normie rolled his shoulders and stood straight, before Benjamin was sure that he heard a sigh and something like a muttered complaint. He felt so angry, so mistreated, so _abused_ . . .

"Don't turn your back on me, Normie!"

Normie scoffed and took a step forward. It felt as if time had slowed down, whilst Benjamin could only watch as the other man walked away, as if Benjamin was no longer even worth his _time_, and that -! That was unacceptable! Benjamin felt his heart race rapidly, whilst his breath came out in pants, and he felt his skin grow hot and tight . . . the anger and desperation fought inside him, alongside the shameful feelings of guilt and embarrassment . . . he _hated_ that he hurt Normie, a man so vulnerable, but he _needed_ to hurt him after what he had done, too!

"Don't walk away from me!"

Benjamin shot out a web and caught Normie by his waist, before he yanked at the web and dragged him back those several steps directly in front of him, where Normie was forced to stumble over and grab a hold of the desk for support. The other teen righted himself at once and stood tall. He adjusted his shirt and tried to pull off the webbing from his waist, but Benjamin could only let out a growl of frustration, before he used his other wrist to shoot a web towards Normie's belt and pull him closer. He snapped the webs and grabbed his collar.

He didn't even realise he was kissing him _until_ he felt cold glass. Benjamin threw Normie against the window, before he pressed the older teenager against the pane and kissed him deeply, with one hand now locked around his throat threateningly and the other pulling at the buckle of his belt hungrily. There was a heat unlike any other, whilst Normie instinctively pressed both hands against his chest and seemed intent at getting his hands underneath Benjamin's top to feel skin, and the _taste_ of the other's mouth on his own -! It was so warm, so perfect, and he could taste a hint of mint and something sweet like honey, and – as he pulled away for breath – he saw Normie looking dishevelled with bruised lips.

"Fuck," said Benjamin. "_Fuck_."

'_Well, I guess it's true. I really am in your head.'_

The punch came before he had time to think. He felt his knuckles push hard against a cheek, before he felt Normie move with the punch and saw him land on the floor. There was little dignity from such a blow . . . he saw Normie on his side, even as he rolled over slightly to look up at Benjamin, and there was already sign of a bruise and a speck of blood. Benjamin felt a spark of shame, but also something close to arousal. _Finally_, Normie looked as betrayed and vulnerable as he once felt, but he felt ashamed to have fallen to his level.

"This – this means nothing, Normie!"

Benjamin reached down to grab his bag, as he slung it over his shoulder, before he rubbed at his mouth in disgust of himself. He felt beyond conflicted, as there was a sickening realisation that he _almost_ forgave Normie, but – at the very least – he had _certainly_ kissed him and – and -! What did that even _mean_? He hated the fact that he could identify with Normie to an extent, to _know_ what that loneliness and self-hatred could feel like, and he hated more that he could _kiss_ Normie after everything he had done! He hoped that Normie was right, that forgiveness was the sign of a hero, because if not . . . what did that make him?

He took an unstable step back, before he turned and practically ran to the office doors, where he stopped momentarily to catch his breath. The emotions he felt were overwhelming him, to the extent that he was unsure whether to scream or cry or laugh, until he swung open the doors and drew in a deep breath. All he needed was to get the data to Tony, at which point it would all be over . . . still, the idea of betraying Normie's trust that way, when he already trusted no one . . . it was then he heard a noise behind him.

"It means everything," Normie said.

Benjamin froze. There was no way that Normie could know that he heard, as even Benjamin couldn't predict the moments where his hearing would come back to him, but suddenly he heard a broken and subdued laughter. It was punctuated by sobs and wracked breaths, and – when he looked over his shoulder – he saw nothing but a stray leg . . . Normie remained collapsed behind his desk, it seemed, unable to stand or sit. He felt a huge wave of guilt wash over him, as he wondered just how broken Normie could be . . . he couldn't be sorry for him . . . he – he couldn't be sorry for the man that hurt him so badly!

_It meant nothing_ . . . Benjamin made his way to the elevator, where he pressed the button over and over, as he tried to ignore the memory of that sad and scared laughter, and he felt tears rise to his eyes in shame. The USB pen in his bag felt so heavy, as if it were weighing him down to the point of immobility, and he realised that he felt guilty. Guilty! It felt as if even now Normie had power over him, but he only had emotional power for as long as Benjamin _let_ him have such power, and he realised then something awful:

It meant _something_.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"_Why_ can't you use it?"

Benjamin looked imploringly to Tony, who merely glared back. The older man brandished the USB drive like a weapon, so that he pointed it at Benjamin almost threateningly, before he stopped and drew in a deep breath. It sounded almost like a hiss, which – at the very least – came as something of a reassurance that his hearing was steadily coming back, and yet it wasn't _quite _the relief he hoped when he could _hear_ how angry Tony felt. There was something disconcerting about seeing his uncle's nostrils flare and his eyes narrow.

He watched as Tony slammed the pen down onto the bar, whilst he kept his hand over it, as if protecting it from being potentially snatched back by Benjamin, and his cheeks were slightly red in a way that _had_ to be more than just alcohol. Tony was dressed in a loose pair of jogging bottoms and an old t-shirt, but somehow – despite that – he looked _very_ intimidating, and Benjamin felt a horrific stab of fear in his chest . . . there was nowhere else for him to go should Tony fire him, too. Benjamin began to hyperventilate, as he thought awkwardly to how impossible it would be to find a job without having graduated, but he managed to swallow hard and calm himself. It was just too bad _Tony_ wouldn't calm down.

"I – I thought it would help Dad and –"

'_Do you know how many laws you just broke?'_ Tony snapped. _'You were lucky not to get caught! I'm half-tempted to delete it and pretend it never happened, but – hey – you're Wade's kid . . . knowing our luck Normie probably knows you took it! You don't exactly scream subtle, kid! Just tell me how bad is this, okay? Am I going to need to apologise to the guy or hire the best lawyer money can buy?'_

"He –!" Benjamin drew in a deep breath. "Okay, fine, he knows I _tried_ to take it, but I switched the pen with a spare! He doesn't actually _know_ I have the data! So . . . you could still . . . you could still _use_ it, I guess. I don't know, though . . . it feels kind of . . ."

'_Wrong?'_ Peter interrupted. _'Maybe that's because it is.'_

"I – I know it's wrong, Dad! I just -!"

It was difficult to follow the conversation, even with Wade signing opposite him in full costume and with an amused smirk beneath his mask. He only just managed to follow with his dad's signs and rapidly looking from face to face to see who was speaking next, although – whenever he caught them in time – he was able to lip-read partially, and he was beginning to feel so _frustrated_ by their forgetfulness about his disorder! There was something ironic in the fact that only Normie and Wade ever remembered to make communication easy.

They looked on at him in a way that he could almost _feel_ their judgement, and he couldn't quite blame them really . . . it wasn't as if they knew that the troubled boy was the same as the Goblin that harmed him. May sat on a barstool at the far end of the bar, whilst Wade sat on the bar itself, and – with Benjamin sitting – he felt almost surrounded and cornered, as Tony and Peter stood looming over him. He looked up and saw the disappointment on their faces, as Tony's private floor of the tower seemed somehow a lot darker given the circumstances, but he couldn't exactly leave either. Benjamin ran a hand through his hair, as he gave a nervous sigh and looked to the floor, unable to look them in the eye.

It made him feel ashamed to know that he stole from Normie, but worse to know that his efforts had been rather pointless. If Tony refused to use the data to help with his research, what was the point in stealing it at all? He wanted revenge, but instead he had only disappointed his family and hurt Normie in the process, so that the older teenager felt his last ounce of trust shredded into pieces, and even if it _was_ crazy for him to trust the boy that he beat and hurt and threatened . . . it was still there and Benjamin still hurt him. He looked up to Wade for some form of reassurance, but his mask made his face unreadable.

"I – I feel bad about taking it, but . . ."

'_You know that I can't use this,'_ said Tony. _'It's as good as deleted.'_

"I – you can't – it's just -!" Benjamin wrung his hands and threw back his head. "You _know_ that those spider experiments were programmed to Parker blood, right? That's not to mention the private research that Normie's been working on! If you combined that with my blood -!"

'_Trust me, I'll keep working on your samples. Bruce is making some leeway, but that was before – you know – your attempt at what's probably a felony. I hope for your sake that Normie doesn't press charges, because being in prison with your abilities -? Isn't that how that old horror film started? 'Son of a thousand maniacs'? I can never remember whether that's the title or the killer's nickname . . . anyway, this data is as good as useless.'_

"Prison jokes? Seriously, that's pretty low, Tony! I was only trying to do what was right! It's – it's not as though you -! There's more to the story, alright? Normie -! He – he won't press charges and he _won't_ try to get back at us, I swear! I – he said – I just -! I'm not saying that what I did was _right_, but he -! He _deserved_ it . . . mostly."

'_The prodigy child that lost his father and grandfather deserves theft? Good to know.'_

"You're not fucking listening to me, Tony! I'm trying to -!"

'_Explain? Yeah, good job.'_

Benjamin let out a frustrated cry and jumped up. He began to pace back and forth, as he cast nervous glances towards his dad and sister, but there was little reassurance from either. May looked somewhat unsure of herself and sorry for him, whilst Wade remained masked and sitting awkwardly on the bar with muddied feet and bloodied mask . . . Benjamin wondered whether he arrived straight off from a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission, before he wondered why _no one_ would let him speak. Even the two people that _always_ listened to him seemed intent on just letting Tony and Peter speak over him! He – he just wanted them to hear him! True, he couldn't tell them the _whole_ story, but they weren't ready to listen to_ any_ of it!

It was enough to make him draw in a harsh breath of air and sigh, before he stood still and ran a hand through his hair to ground himself. He could still feel the anger from his confrontation with Normie, but this time Normie wasn't there to provide an outlet, and instead the rage continued to boil inside him until he felt ready to burst. There was a clear flush to his cheeks, just as he felt afraid they might _hear_ how loudly his heart beat in his chest, and – eventually – he looked to Tony with watery eyes and addressed him directly.

"So – so what?" Benjamin asked. "Dad suffers because of me?"

'_I'll contact Normie through legitimate means,'_ snapped Tony. _'It looks like he's been trying to use his research to modify a healing factor to target certain cells, without causing a mutation or irrevocable side-effects. Theoretically, this could cure cancer or numerous previously incurable illnesses, but the research is only half-complete, and combined with our research . . . Peter would get his cure; we'd get our healing factor. Heck, with complete research we might not even _need_ to manufacture Wade's factor to get a cure!'_

"You'd both be able to use the other's research to get what you need? Great, so – so why don't you contact him and ask? He's not so messed up as to shoot himself in the foot just out of spite! It – it could work out! I'll apologise if it helps, but j-just don't say that Dad will have to – to – to die because . . . because I screwed up. Please, just – just do something!"

"Wait, what the fuck?" Wade asked. "Petey's going to die?"

'_Not any time soon, no,'_ replied Tony.

Benjamin looked nervously to his father. There was a paling of Peter's face, as he looked with a great deal of pain towards the floor, and then sat down upon a stool just next to where Wade sat on the bar itself. It – it was clear that something more was going on . . . Benjamin assumed his father wanted a healing factor so that he wouldn't have to die, _full stop_, but that had never made sense to him – even at the time – when he knew that Peter shared his beliefs about life with May. He – he didn't want to live for an indeterminable time . . .

There would only be one reason why Peter would choose this . . . why he would go against everything he believed in just to try and extend his life . . . clearly, only Tony knew the truth and Benjamin guessed upon it by mentioning death. It made him hate himself all the more. If they obtained the research legitimately, then Peter wouldn't have needed to choose between a healing factor like theirs and – and – and an end . . . there would have been a cure. There still could be, but what if Benjamin had messed up irrevocably? What if Normie refused? What if Normie demanded something in _return_ for the research? Benjamin bit his lip and then thought of something worse: what if they lost Peter?

Wade knew something was up, because at once both feet were on the floor and he used his height advantage to tower over Tony, but . . . how much _did_ he know? The clenching of his muscles made them seem twice as large, whilst he exuded an aura of absolute hostility, and clearly the word 'die' was rough to hear, when he likely only heard words like 'long life together' and 'never be apart' . . . Peter purposely avoiding the word to hide his real motives. This – this would be tough to deal with, even as a family, but harder still for Wade . . . Wade that lived through this once before, losing his first love in the process . . .

"I call bullshit!" Wade shouted. "What aren't you guys telling me?"

'_Wade, it's fine,' _said Peter. _'I – I never thought I'd agree to advancing my healing factor, but I have and that's all that matters, right? Don't act like I'm going anywhere, when the only place I need to be is right here with _you_.'_

Wade turned and grabbed Peter by his upper arms. It was a forceful and likely painful hold, even with Peter being twice as strong and used to these emotional outbursts. The emptiness and cold dread that Benjamin felt seemed nothing compared to whatever Peter was hiding, because – in that instant – he saw a vulnerability in his father's expression that he never before remembered seeing, and he wondered how it would feel to realise that he would never see that expression again. Wade lifted a gloved hand to run over Peter's cheek. He watched as his father nuzzled into the touch and pressed a chaste kiss to the palm of his hand.

It was such an intimate gesture, with Wade suddenly leaning forward almost as if he were leaning in for a kiss, but the mask separated them and gave some distance . . . there was an inch or so between their lips, as Peter smiled sadly, and Benjamin wondered whether his dad was crying behind the mask. The tension in his muscles died away, whilst Peter reached up to wrap his hand in his husband's and held tightly, but that did nothing except cause Wade to drop his forehead against Peter's and issue forth a broken sigh.

"It's cancer, isn't it?" Wade asked.

'_It's nothing. I don't even think spiders can get cancer, but then you'd be surprised what arachnids can do. There's even a spider that eats its mate, so keep asking questions; the more annoyed I get the more I'll be eating you. Seriously, I'd do it!'_

"I hope so, baby boy! That sure sounds like a fun evening!"

'_W-Wade, don't make me laugh!'_

Peter laughed and gave a small blush. He looked a little nervously to May and Benjamin, as he – much like his son – was always somewhat uncomfortable with those types of innuendos and comments, but he allowed it this time and looked lovingly again to Wade. It was then that he placed a kiss against the mask, which was chaste and yet somehow all the more intimate for it, and Benjamin looked away briefly to give them a sense of privacy. Peter pulled back after a brief second and raised his other hand to stroke Wade's cheek in turn.

"Seriously, I'm fine," said Peter

It was a relief to _hear_ those words, but more so to see the expression of sheer love on his father's face, and – at the same time – Benjamin felt an intense spark of fear, because he knew from experience what a faked smile looked like. There were many faked smiles in the past, whether from the times he tried to shrug off a healing wound or a growling stomach, but it was strange to see such a smile from his father, especially when he knew that his father was hiding something important . . . it made him wonder whether his dad _brought_ such an empty platitude and reassurance. Eventually Wade pulled away and turned his back on the group, which was worrisome in itself. Wade knew. He just couldn't face it.

It was then that Peter shook his head and turned to look at Benjamin, which forced him to look very careful at his father's lips to read what was being said, as Wade had apparently given up on signing in order to process his emotions. Benjamin drew in a broken breath and wrapped his arms around himself for comfort, as he tried not to dwell on what he heard, and he tried to remind himself that there would be time for grief later . . . right now he needed to be strong, even if only for Peter's sake. He tried to concentrate on what was said.

'_Why did you steal, Benjamin?'_ Peter asked.

'_Revenge is a dish best served cold, apparently,' _May muttered.

"May, shut up!" Benjamin shouted. "There's just -! There's just some bad blood between us! Normie did something that I couldn't get past, but he's -! There's just something _about_ him that I can't get out of my head! I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone, but I feel -!"

'_Pissed at the Goblin, but curious about Normie? I guess that makes sense.'_

Benjamin didn't let his eyes move from her lips. It was impossible to hear the reaction of the room, but he couldn't care about anything else except the look of horror on her face . . . a look that mirrored what he felt perfectly. He watched as his sister became deathly white, with her eyes open wide and unable to say a word, as she looked about the room and tried to ascertain what damage had been done, but they already heard what she said and they already knew. They knew that Normie was the Goblin. _Wade_ knew . . . Wade . . .

'_Oh God, I'm so sorry, Benji! I totally -!'_

"Norman _fucking_ Osborn is that bastard?" Wade asked. "The Goblin?"

It felt strange to hear his father so clearly, but Benjamin hadn't so far questioned why it was that he was beginning to hear his father so clearly, just as he didn't question why he heard Normie so often when he could hear no one else. There was also something else clear: rage. The tension was back in Wade's muscles, so that he bulged almost obscenely, and he stood so tall that Benjamin almost forgot they were practically the exact same height, and already his hands were clenching and unclenching by his side. Wade took a step forward, which caused Benjamin to stumble backwards a few steps, with his heart racing.

"I-it's not as bad as it sounds, Pops, I -!"

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" Wade screamed. "I killed one Goblin, I can kill a fucking another! It'll be like Mary's garden, only with a row of fucking goblin heads instead of maids! 'Deadpool, Deadpool, how does your graveyard grow'? _Fucking, a-hole_! I'll slice him like sushi and cut him like a _brit milah_! He'll be deader than disco! Fuck_. Fuck. Fuck!_"

"P-please! D-don't hurt him, Pops! Don't d-do anything -!"

Wade pushed a button on his belt. Benjamin barely had time to dive forward, before his dad was gone completely . . . he collided with an empty space, before he crashed against the bar and felt the wind knocked out of him. He spun around in a panic and looked around for his dad, but he was already gone. He – he would likely be hunting down Normie right at that moment, whilst Normie -! This – this was so wrong . . . Normie was sick and he – he -!

"Shit! _Fuck_!"

This couldn't be happening! He already suffered so much . . . he might even lose his father, but now could lose Normie too . . . he – he couldn't say it was emotionally the same by any means, but it was worse for the fact that _he_ was the cause of it. Wade wouldn't have gone after Normie, if Benjamin had just _dealt_ with this properly to begin with, and -! Okay, it would probably take Wade time to find Normie, right? He – he wouldn't likely go to Oscorp first, which meant that he – he had time to . . . to . . .

Benjamin ran to Tony and grabbed a hold of his uncle's forearm, where he hunched over slightly and brought his uncle's hand upright to hold onto it with both of his, where he looked pleadingly up at him . . . silently _begged_ him . . . although Tony stumbled back awkwardly. He watched as his uncle looked nervously from May to Peter, as if asking them to call him off, but Benjamin only held tighter, as he felt tears rise to his face, because he knew – _without a doubt – _there would be no way to beat Wade to Oscorp Tower with only webbing and will, but with Tony and his suit -! Benjamin felt tears fall, as he began to hyperventilate.

"T-Tony, please, I need to get to Normie!"

"Alright already," said Tony. "J.A.R.V.I.S., get my suit ready! Peter, try and get a hold on your husband before he goes crazy! May, I want you to get a hold of Steve and tell him this is an emergency and to get moving to Normie! Everyone! Move! Now!"

Tony wrenched his hand away and grabbed Benjamin's wrist, as he began to drag him through the tower to the roof, where J.A.R.V.I.S. already had systems ready to go, so that – with a few steps – Tony became costumed and transformed into Iron Man. Time appeared to go by quickly, so that minutes felt like seconds, and Benjamin felt incoherent and disorientated, and even the sight of his uncle in full costume wasn't a comfort in the least, as the absolute fear struck him and consumed him. The – the idea of having betrayed Normie, regardless of what he did, followed by leading him to his death . . .

He raised a shaking hand to his mouth, as he tried to hold back heaving sobs, and wondered whether they could make it in time. The night felt so cold and penetrated even his clothing, so that he felt his body turn to ice, and he began to shiver uncontrollably as he let his eyes travel, over the cityscape. Oscorp Tower stood so tall against the line of the cityscape that it served as a reminder of what Benjamin had done, just as what he may have brought upon Normie, and he jumped to feel an iron hand upon his shoulder.

Tony clenched enough to remind Benjamin that he wasn't alone, before he knelt down and essentially prepped himself for a piggyback ride, and – as humiliating as it was – Benjamin knew that now wasn't the time for pride. He climbed onto his back, as Tony took a grip under his legs, before he felt Tony stand upright . . . it was difficult not to feel a small spark of vertigo. There was no way to hide the nervousness he felt, especially when he learned to trust his web-shooters, but he couldn't quite bring himself to trust in metal . . . still, he needed to get to Normie, regardless of how he achieved that, and if this was what was needed -?

"Let's hope we make it in time," muttered Tony.

"We have to," whispered Benjamin.

He tried to forget the way that Wade saw red so easily, to the extent that when he was lost in rage he would even become unable to differentiate friend from foe, and he clenched his arms so tightly around Tony's neck that it was clearly a _good_ thing that there was metal separating flesh from flesh. He felt a tear fall, although – as Tony dived off the roof – it was soon swept away by the wind, and suddenly a barrage of sounds and senses hit him, enough that he realised he could _hear_ and he hoped it would last. If they were even a second too late . . .

"We have to make it."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Pops! Stop! Please, just stop!"

Benjamin stumbled through the office doors. There was a great pain in his throat, as panting for breath in the face of a cold wind was – admittedly – something of a bad idea, and he still struggled to catch his breath as he stood in the doorway to the office. He wrapped an arm around his abdomen and leaned forward, whilst he looked directly at the scene before him in a desperate fear. It was hard to focus his eyes, especially when he felt dizzy from the heights on their way over, and he felt his body waver with a sense of nausea.

They had been forced to break in through a window on the other side of the floor, whilst Iron Man sought to clear the building and wait for back up, and Benjamin – unable to think about anything else – ran to Normie. He ran as fast as he was able. It would be too dangerous to break in through the office window, as there was no telling how Wade would react, and they couldn't risk Normie's life . . . they just _couldn't_. If Wade felt he was being ambushed or confronted, there was every chance that he would kill Normie on the spot. Benjamin didn't want that blood on his hands. He simply remembered running and running and running, until time seemed to stand still and eventually there he stood: Normie broken before him.

"Pops, you have to stop! I'm begging you!"

Normie lay on the floor. He was half-curled on his side, directly in front of his desk, with so many bruises and wounds that he was almost unrecognisable . . . Benjamin lifted a shaking hand to his lips and took a step back. _Oh God, _this – this was his fault. He tried to fight back the tears, but they fell despite his attempts to control his feelings. It was difficult to hold back all that he felt, especially when he could taste the acid of vomit in the back of his throat, as he choked back the waves of nausea and disgust, and suddenly he struggled to stand straight.

The look of helplessness on the other boy's face was heartbreaking, but – worse than that – Benjamin felt a sickening thought that _this_ could be considered justice. He was beaten worse than Benjamin, finally experiencing the horror of being at the mercy of another person, and yet it wasn't _satisfying_ in the least! He – he didn't _want_ Normie to suffer this way. It – it felt wrong, and he – he deserved rehabilitation and treatment . . . didn't he? Normie's eye was so swollen that it was actually _shut_, whilst he was wheezing for breath in a way that wasn't healthy in the least, and each time he coughed . . . Benjamin saw _blood_. It peppered Normie's lips, as well as the many cuts on his cheek and neck, whilst his shirt . . .

It was virtually _black_ with _blood_, so that Benjamin felt himself began to pant heavily in a desperate struggle to catch his breath, and it looked like the older teenager had even dislocated a shoulder and broken his leg . . . at least sprained or fractured it. He hated seeing Normie trying to crawl upright. He hated seeing Normie so _afraid_. Wade stood seemingly impossibly tall before him, with legs apart and a katana in hand, and he looked down at Normie with an expression impossible to see hidden behind a mask and with back to Benjamin. It was enough to force Benjamin to edge forward in fear.

"Shit, Pops, what have you done?"

"No one touches my kids," snapped Wade. "I held off from permanent damage. He's still got his teeth, eyes and limbs . . . might have ripped off a nail or two, though. Do those grow back? It's been so long, I forget what grows back and what doesn't."

"P-Pops, you have to let him go, _please_ . . . for me?"

"Why do you think I'm doing this?"

Wade lifted his foot and stamped hard on Normie's ribs. The older teen let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a moan, as he flinched with the pain of the blow, and Benjamin was half-certain he heard a rib crack. It made him wince to see Normie try to clutch his wound and splutter aimlessly, but then he saw his dad slowly raise his foot to deliver another kick, which was all that it took for Benjamin to see red and to run forward to Normie's aid. He pushed at Wade before he even thought about his actions.

"Stop it! J-just stop it!"

Benjamin ran between Wade and Normie, before he shoved at his dad again and knocked him back a step, where Wade – despite his mask hiding his face – appeared confused and incredibly angry, to the extent he raised his katana in warning. It was enough to strike a chord of fear in Benjamin, as he knew that his dad would have no problems pushing him out of the way to continue in his quest for vengeance, but Benjamin didn't _want_ vengeance! He wanted to find a sense of closure on his _own_ terms. He felt his chest puff out, as he drew in breath.

A second later, he dropped to his feet and reached out to Normie. It only took a light tough to his chest to make the older teenager call out in pain, as his back arched and tears formed, and Benjamin bit his lip awkwardly until he tasted blood. This – this was so wrong . . . so wrong! He carefully manoeuvred his arms underneath Normie's back, so that he could slowly lift the older boy up into a sitting position, where he leaned him against the desk, and – with huge gaping breaths – he heard Normie pant and roll his head in lazy motions. There was a sweat on his forehead, whilst tears and blood seemed to sting his eyes. Benjamin stroked lightly across his forehead, to try and wipe the worst of it away.

"You've really hurt him," Benjamin whispered.

"Fuck right, I did!"

Wade kicked hard at the desk, with his foot missing Normie's face by an inch. It was so close that it actually knocked Benjamin's ear and brushed his hair, causing him to draw in a gasp of fear himself, before the foot was pulled back and a crack was revealed on the desk. Benjamin felt his heart race unbearably, until he realised that there was no stopping Wade, not if he put his mind to it . . . which made him grip onto the material of Normie's shirt, as he held him by the shoulders. The touch of Normie reminded him that he _just_ made it in time.

"He needs medical treatment," said Benjamin.

"No shit? Don't worry, where he's going he won't need it!"

"Don't you _fucking_ dare, Pops! Why do you think I kept it secret? This is _my_ life and _my_ pain and I'll deal with it how _I_ see fit! I – I thought I wanted him to suffer, so I – I took his research and thought I'd -! _I don't want revenge_! I thought I fucking did, but I -!" Benjamin turned to look at Wade over his shoulder. "He – he's sick . . . like _actually_ sick. He did what he did so May would _kill_ him . . . he wants to die."

"Great, so I'll fucking kill this shit! It's a win-win!" Wade swiped the air with his sword. "You know what, though? I wanted to fucking die, too. I shot myself, I hung myself, I jumped off a bridge, I stabbed myself, I –! Well, let's just say that if you can imagine it, I tried it. _I didn't fucking beat up a kid to do it_!"

"Well good for fucking you! You're not killing him, though! He – he's seeing a therapist, and – and he – I don't know! I'm not a fucking doctor, but he can get medicine and group therapy and maybe make some friends . . . there's _hope_ for him."

"The only hope he's got is that I make this quick!"

Benjamin closed his eyes tightly. He felt a tear run down his cheek, just as he felt Normie raise an uninjured arm to brush it away with his knuckle, and he reopened his eyes to see that Normie's own blue pair were filled with acceptance. Benjamin looked at him with confusion, as he raised his hand to hold onto Normie's, but felt the colour drain from his face when he felt how cold the older teenager's skin was against his, until he felt himself cry again and held the hand against his cheek. He _knew_ what it felt like to be that filled with sadness and hopelessness, but – no matter how hopeless Benjamin felt – he could _see_ the potential in Normie and the room for him to stop being this – this – this -!

It was starting to hurt his ankles to perch on the front of his feet, but he wanted to remain vigilant and ready to move . . . if Wade went to attack, Benjamin wanted to be ready to defend this man against him. He knew May would chastise him for believing in Normie, but not in himself, but -! That sheer _pain_ in Normie's expression was unbearable, but so too was the almost beautiful and eerie look of _peace_, and Benjamin _almost_ felt guilty for taking from him this chance to die. He swallowed hard and let out a shuddered breath.

"I – I don't _want_ him to die," said Benjamin.

"Fuck! You know what they call this? Stockholm Syndrome!"

"It's not -! Look, if you kill him -! You – you say that you love May and Ellie and me. You say you love us more than anything, right? W-well, how do you think I'll feel if you _kill_ a person in my name? D-Dad might have forgiven you, but I'm – I couldn't -!"

"Give me _one_ good fucking reason not to, Benji!"

Wade began to step back and forth, as if lost in a strange dance, and Benjamin found himself forced to turn to his side to keep him in view. It was difficult, but he felt the cool side of the desk against his arm, which provided him enough stimuli to ground him, whilst Normie – unable to find the strength to keep up his arm – let it drop to his lap. Benjamin continued to hold it, even as he felt awkward with the backs of his fingers pressed against a bruised thigh, and yet he didn't quite want to let go. He didn't want Normie to feel alone. The surreal pseudo-intimacy gave him an idea, as he hoped to break the tension.

"Er, you wouldn't kill the father of your future grandchild?"

The silence was rather damning. He thought – for a naïve second – his dad might laugh at the rather blatant lie, as well as Benjamin's joking attempt at a 'could be worse' scenario, but apparently Wade either chose to take it seriously or failed to realise that it wasn't serious. The sword lowered dangerously to aim at Normie's throat, was Wade stepped forward quickly and purposefully towards Normie. Normie let out a sigh of fear, whilst Benjamin felt his eyes widen in sheer terror. In a matter of seconds, he was on his feet.

_Fuck_, it was a _very_ bad sign that his dad was _not_ in the mood for jokes. He heard Wade joke and flirt _dozens _of times, sometimes even with rivals and strangers, and that he could think for an _instant_ that Benjamin would have seriously meant what he said -! It was almost impossible to hold Wade back, even with Benjamin having worked out extensively and _almost_ with the same muscle mass as his dad, but Wade likely had the advantage of adrenaline and determination. Benjamin cast frequent looks behind him, as he tried to avoid stepping on – or crashing into – Normie, whilst he fought to keep Wade back.

"I-I'm kidding! I'm kidding! _Shit_!"

"If he's fucking _touched_ you, I swear I'll castrate him with -!"

"He hasn't touched me! I – I was just trying to lighten the tension, but I guess -! Look, I was only interning here a few weeks, I can count on one hand how often we ran into one another, and _that_ was only to discuss work or make awkward small talk! I – that is – I might -!"

"Benji, we nearly fucking lost you once! Your dad got hit – _smack_ – right in his stomach, was laid up pretty bad for almost the entire pregnancy, and then went into a premature labour. The first time I saw you, you were wrapped up in tubes and in an incubator! I touched your hand and remember how soft it was . . . I wore my mask around you for fucking _months_, but it always made you cry. You were the only person _to want_ to see my face.

"I was the one to fucking get the bullshit lectures for teaching you to say 'shit' as a toddler, and I was the one to teach you that only _I_ get to play 'pull my finger' with actual dismemberment! I wiped your mouth when you were sick, I sat up telling you stories when you were too hyper to sleep, and I even fucking taught you to fight when you decided to become a hero! You're my fucking, goddamned son! I never thought I _could_ create something so beautiful, but there you are! You and your sisters are my one hope, my -!"

"I – I get that you love me," said Benjamin. "I get that! This – this isn't easy for me, either! I – I had to look at your face and Dad's and _see_ how hurt you were, all because _I _was hurt after how Normie beat me, but -! I've _tried_ to kill myself, over and over and over, and I – I don't want anyone to ever fucking feel that way! I don't want Normie to die!"

"I thought those bloodstains were from fighting or something," Wade muttered.

"No, you _wanted_ believe they were!"

Benjamin let his hands fall from his dad's chest, as Wade stepped backwards and kept his weapons low, with the shock of what he heard clear through the mask. It was obvious that his mouth was open and his muscles were tensed, and Benjamin heard what sounded like a curse from his mouth. This – this wasn't how he wanted Wade to find out. Benjamin resisted the urge to rub at his wrists, a nervous habit from before even the trauma with Normie, and instead bit hard at his lip to try and remain free from tears.

They stood awkwardly for some time. The only sounds were those of Normie's strained breathing and occasional groans, whilst Benjamin let his eyes fall to his dad's knees to avoid looking into his eyes. He could imagine what must have gone through Wade's mind, because he held the same self-destructive tendencies as his son, but that didn't mean that Wade had any right to blame himself for what Benjamin had done! It took all his strength to look up and to find the words to say, because – every time he opened his mouth to speak – the words felt hollow and bitter on his tongue, until he felt sick for even making his confession. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Wade. He loved Wade.

"It wasn't your fault," said Benjamin.

"Isn't it? My son tells me that he wants to fucking die, but that's not my fault? _Bullshit!_ I should have fucking seen the signs and -! You know what? It's fine. I _see_ the signs here, because I couldn't fucking _miss_ the bruises on your body. I'm going to kill him."

"Proportionate violence, remember! I – I have a healing factor! I can survive everything _you_ can, but Normie can't! You – you gave up the mercenary work, Pops! If you – if you do this then you aren't even a mercenary . . . you're just a killer. I've always been _proud_ to call you my dad. You were never 'father' or anything so formal, but always just 'dad' in my head, because you were my _hero_! You're the only person to make me _laugh_! Don't – don't make me cry . . . please . . . don't be the person to make me cry."

Wade looked to the side in consideration of what was said, whilst Benjamin felt himself fighting back tears. There was a painful lump in his throat, as he swallowed hard to rid himself of it, and he could only think of how much emotional pain Normie must have been through, and how fragile life could be . . . Normie's pain could have killed him, even though the exact same pain Benjamin felt would never harm him physically, and surely he had a duty to protect Normie and others like him? Surely everyone had the right to believe that life was something worth living? Death -! It – it couldn't be an answer. It couldn't be an answer, whilst those like Peter _clung_ desperately to their will to live, despite death being inevitable.

"He made you cry," whispered Wade.

"Y-yeah, but I made him cry, too. I broke his trust and I stole his work, plus I -! I think we can help each other . . . maybe two broken people can't fix each other, but we keep help each other keep the pieces together. Can't we _stop_ the tears? Please."

"Sorry, kid. I won't let him make you cry again."

"D-don't, Pops, please don't -!"

The sword moved swiftly before him. He saw the glint of light upon the blade, as well as heard the crunch of fabric as his dad took the hilt in both hands and pulled back, and – in a moment of dread – he felt the world move slowly around him. It was pointed low so that it would slice through Normie's throat, whilst the fear in the older teenager's eyes was apparent and tears appeared to form, and Benjamin thought about how this would soon all be at an end, because Wade meant to _kill_ Normie. He was going to kill him.

Benjamin acted on instinct. He felt his body move, as if some external force controlled it, nothing more than a puppet on a string, and dove in front of the blade with an absolute sense of urgency and terror. It was a then that he felt a searing agony just beneath his ribs, even as he reached out with both hands to slow the blade and tried to take control of the hilt. There was a feeling of something hot and wet over his hands and abdomen, before he felt it run down his arms and legs, too, and the blade sliced through his palms on its descent. He eventually felt the tips of his fingers hit metal, but they felt numb . . . there were pins and needles in each one, with a tingling sensation going so far as his wrist . . .

It was enough to make him look across and see that the blade – from his attempt to grab it and stop it – had sliced his hands nearly in two across his palm, whilst the end of the blade itself . . . _oh God _. . . it was through his stomach. The – the strange thing was that he didn't truly feel it, at least not until he _saw_ it, and suddenly the pain overwhelmed him. He gave a cough, before he realised he couldn't draw breath, so that he spluttered and stuttered, until Wade – in absolute horror at what he had done – withdrew the blade, and Benjamin coughed again only to see blood spurt from his mouth in a torrent.

Benjamin wavered on his feet, before he collapsed to his knees painfully, and – as Wade sheathed his katana – Benjamin looked down . . . eyes blurred and vision doubled . . . seeing – seeing blood pour forth and his hands held up in confusion. He fell backwards and collapsed against the side of the desk beside Normie, whereby the older teenager struggled to shuffle closer and raised a hand to try and press on the wound . . . Benjamin laughed brokenly, as he saw Normie couldn't make a fist . . . how could – how could he even -?

"B-Benji," Normie whispered. "You –"

"_Don't you fucking talk to him, Ass-Face!"_ Wade screamed.

Benjamin winced at the sheer volume. A second later, he saw the black-and-red mask of his dad inches from his face, before it sounded like a pouch was popped open and a rag was pulled out. He continued to pant . . . he felt light-headed, dizzy, disorientated . . . suddenly he screamed when pressure was put to the wound, as he threw back his head and began to pant for breath and cry in pain. Wade swore continually under his breath, even as he ripped open Benjamin's shirt to get to the wound . . . he – he would heal, but it – it hurt . . .

"What the fuck are you thinking?" Wade asked.

"D-don't hurt him," begged Benjamin. "Please, don't hurt him."

"O-okay, kiddo, how about a deal? You don't tell your Dad I stabbed you, _plus_ you never see this fucking fruit-loop again, and – in return – I'll be super nice and let him keep all his limbs, including his head! If you so much as _look_ at him though, guess who'll be getting _a head_ in life? Ha! Get it? Well, you won't get it _yet_, but the _headlines_ will -!"

"I – I get it. I – I swear I won't – I won't see him . . . a-again."

Benjamin let his fingers cross beside him, even as he felt Normie's hand fall upon his to cover the gesture from Wade, and he wondered whether he was as crazy as Normie. He – he could try and help Normie, but Normie only wanted death . . . he couldn't help someone that didn't want to be helped, whilst Normie would likely let Benjamin befriend him on the off-chance Wade would find out and kill him . . . it was unhealthy to say the least. Benjamin tasted blood in his mouth and looked up to see Wade looming over him . . .

"He won't ever hurt you again," said Wade.

Benjamin felt a spark of fear. He once heard rumours that Wade killed everyone from his past that he considered a threat, so that no one would emerge to hurt his family, whilst others whispered that Wade was one to _never_ leave a loose end wherever possible, and he couldn't help but to look to Normie and see the pain in his eyes. There was no way that he could leave the older teenager to suffer alone, no matter how _infuriated_ he was with him, because Normie _could_ die and he would . . . even if Wade didn't kill him, there was every possibility that Normie would do it for him. Benjamin swallowed back a feeling of fear.

It was then he felt strong arms wrap around him, as he called out in the pain of being moved, before he was swept up into a bridal-style hold. He let his head lay against Wade's chest, where it reminded him of his childhood . . . he smiled despite himself, even as a wave of coldness washed over him, and he began to feel sleepy . . . he remembered Wade carrying him this way out of the bathtub, as well as from the sofa to bed . . . he remembered so many things about his dad and his childhood. Now all he knew was pain.

"Your Dad is going to kill me," muttered Wade.

"I – I'm g-going to kill . . . you first."

"Aw, you're cute when you're bleeding to death!"

Wade smiled warmly, which was visible even through his mask. He then turned to look at Normie, where the smile died instantly and the muscles in his arms tensed beneath him, and even his grip became hard and uncomfortable. Benjamin felt his dad deliver a harsh and loud kick to Normie's head, where there was the sound of a cry of pain, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor . . . Benjamin tried to turn his head to see whether he was okay, but – but it hurt to move his head in the least.

"Come near my son and I'll gut you," Wade spat.

"D-duly noted," muttered Normie.

He wanted to look at Normie, to see whether he was okay, but instead he let himself listen to Wade's heart . . . surprised that it never rose even the slightest. It was hard not to let himself smile, despite the strange mixture of pain and exhaustion, as he realised that Normie would be okay, which meant that Benjamin had – had made – had made a difference . . . Benjamin tried to laugh, before he began to cough uncontrollably. There – there was something rather empowering to realise that he had a voice, just as to know that he could help people . . . maybe – maybe he could feel better about himself, maybe help Normie in the process . . .

There was a sound of people running into the room, even as Wade began to carry him outside, and he heard noises . . . noises that sounded like Steve's voice talking . . . Benjamin caught words like 'medics', 'hospital', and 'okay'. He felt a surge of relief that Normie would be treated and okay, but he also felt guilty for leaving . . . he did all that he could, just as he stopped Wade from killing Normie, but it still didn't quite feel enough . . . he wished that he never got Normie into this mess to begin with, as it felt -!

"Time to go home, Benji!"

"W-will Normie be okay? P-please?"

Wade let out a sound like a growl, as he bounced Benjamin in his arms. He wondered how his dad had the strength to hold him, when he weighed nearly the same, but he dismissed the thought when pain struck. There was the feeling of a cold breeze . . . someone with a cold hand ruffled his hair, as they ran past . . . were they heading home? Benjamin drew in a deep breath, but smelled only blood and tasted only iron. It was then he felt his dad lean down to press a kiss against his forehead, even through his mask, and he smiled sadly.

"He'll be fine," said Wade sadly. "Wish he wasn't, though."

Benjamin smiled and let sleep come.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

"Well, this is a surprise."

Normie stood in the doorway to the _en suite_. The steam – as it billowed out behind him – gave him an almost surreal aura of power, so that everything around him was blurred and the older teenager became the main focus, and small beads of sweat formed on his skin. It was enough to make Benjamin swallow awkwardly, as he blushed an almost impossible shade of red at the sight. He looked down at his feet to give Normie at least the illusion of privacy, but the other man merely gave a sigh and continued as if Benjamin weren't there.

It was enough to make Benjamin look up in mild curiosity, as he took Normie's casual demeanour to mean that he held no objections to his uninvited presence, and – as Normie turned to towel himself before a mirror – Benjamin took the opportunity to take a good look at him, even as he felt a little inappropriate for his sneaked looks. The older teenager held a good physique, with toned muscles and a slim body, whilst he wore only navy boxers that looked more expensive than Benjamin's entire wardrobe. He even found himself admiring the tattoos, too, even when they would usually be something of a turn-off . . . n-not that Normie was a turn-_on_ by any means! Benjamin swallowed hard.

"You stare far too much for an intruder," said Normie.

Benjamin crossed his arms over his chest protectively, as he looked left through the glass wall, which overlooked the first floor and the dining area below. Still, he could see Normie in the reflection of the glass, which made the exercise futile. It was only now that he saw the damage done to the other man, as he stole a few more glances at his reflection, and he could see that there were bruises and cuts all over his body, whilst his eye was still somewhat swollen along with his lip. The right foot was bandaged, which made Benjamin wonder whether it was sprained or dislocated during the – the indecent . . .

"I – I'm sorry, okay!"

"Sorry for breaking into my home?" Normie asked.

"W-well, yeah, _that_," muttered Benjamin. "I'm also sorry about what happened, too. I – it's just that – I didn't -! _Fuck_. Okay, I didn't _think_ you'd be showering this time of night! Can you – can you put on some pants or _something_? It's a little . . . you know."

"Distracting? I thank you for the compliment, but _no_. I will _not_ dress."

"You – you've proved your point! I'm intruding, I know!"

"I don't cater to intruders, Benji."

Normie glanced over his shoulder, as cornrows fell down his back and brushed against the top of the memorial tattoo to his father and grandfather, before he smiled dangerously and folded the towel up into a small square. He placed it onto a dressing table next to the full-length mirror, before he turned and _carefully_ made his way over to the king-sized bed with an obvious limp, apparently not caring that the doors to the walk-in closet and _en suite_ were both open still and ruined the perfect appearance of the bedroom. The two doors framed the bed in a rather impressive way, and Benjamin admired the décor.

He watched as Normie sat down very carefully, before adjusting his pillows to allow him to sit upright, and then – with a grimace of pain – lifted his injured right foot to fall against the black sheets. He – he must have been cold, but that was hard to imagine when Benjamin was _sweating_ beneath his 'Spider-Pool' costume, so that even his sweat felt sweaty, and yet he realised a lot of that was due to embarrassment and nervousness. It made him tempted to ask to borrow the bathroom, but he didn't trust Normie and Normie didn't trust him.

"Aren't you supposed to elevate a sprain?" Benjamin asked.

Normie lowered his head and looked up at him, giving the impression that he was somewhat disapproving of his presence and also seemed a little condescending, before he gave another loud exhale of breath and raised an eyebrow. It was then that he reached onto the bedside table for a book . . . it was strange how minimalist and white the apartment appeared, whilst the bedroom was stamped with personality. It was actually a rather bright and cheerful room, filled with objects and furniture, and Benjamin would have admired it . . . except that Normie was now flicking through the book and ignoring him!

"Hey, it's not my fault your building has shit security!"

"I paid four million for this apartment," said Normie without any hint of a boast. "I consider it a bargain when I was able to negotiate fifty-thousand off the asking price, but – as such – I am fully aware that this building has a more than adequate security system. There are a mere seven apartments, with an elevator that requires both keys and codes, and a private security team on the first floor of the building. You broke in. How?"

"I webbed my way over to the building," muttered Benjamin. "I was going to break in through the balcony, even have my tool kit in the pouches to pick the lock, but the security guard saw me and thought I was Spider-Man. I kind of – er – went with it? I said I was here to talk to you about the attack five days ago. So . . . yeah."

"Ah, you're here to talk? How amusing. Wade Wilson said those exact words to me."

"I – I'm not here to hurt you! I honestly just want to talk!"

Normie rolled his blue eyes and turned a page. The book appeared to be regarding science, where the title alone made Benjamin's head spin, but the idea that a book could be more interesting than -! There was a deep cut across Normie's stomach, which looked like it may scar and certainly held stitches, whilst the bruising on his foot was so swollen that it looked twice the size of its partner. Benjamin wondered how long Normie had been in hospital, as well as who was looking after him now . . . whomever it was, they were doing a _terrible_ job!

"Seriously, you need to elevate that!" Benjamin snapped.

Normie rolled his eyes again. It was enough to make Benjamin see red, as he slammed shut the bedroom door behind him and marched across to a chair in a far corner, where he snatched up a small cushion and walked over to the bed. This time, Normie looked at him over the top of his book. There was a look in his eyes of both curiosity and frustration, which made sense when there were very few people that ever 'disobeyed' Normie or ignored him so blatantly, but friendships – if they could tentatively call whatever it was between them that – were based on _equality_, and Benjamin wasn't going to blindly follow his rules.

It felt awkward between them, especially with Benjamin at the foot of the bed and Normie barely dressed at all, and he disliked the fact that they were in such an intimate predicament, because . . . well . . . Benjamin had been raised with the concepts of privacy and modesty being paramount in life. He felt confident, which was a good feeling when he spent his life struggling to say 'no' to anyone or speak his mind, but seeing Normie like that . . . it made him second-guess himself and want to leave. How – how should he react?

He decided to ignore the strangeness of the situation, as his annoyance returned and squashed his embarrassment, and – with a careful gesture – he lifted Normie's foot and placed the cushion beneath it, before he dropped the foot a little too forcefully upon it. Normie drew in a hiss of breath, as his knuckles whitened around his book, and he then glared darkly at Benjamin and tried to school his features into an impassive expression, even as Benjamin felt himself grin a little at the fact he got a _little_ even with Normie. He struggled to move properly in costume, but he managed to stand straight with a smirk.

"Your bedside manner needs improvement," said Normie.

"What can I say? I've never experienced bedside manner to know how to copy it." Benjamin shrugged and gave a sigh. "I was stabbed through the stomach, Normie, it took me _three days_ to be back up in full health. Pops has gone missing, though, but I think it's because he's wracked with guilt and _really_ pissed off, and Dad's _super_ over-protective and freaking out! I would have come to check on you sooner, but this was the only time I could sneak out."

"Three a.m.? How interesting . . . it was my subconscious that sought to wake me, enough that I felt compelled to wash away the sweat of fear, but I'm curious . . . tell me, what kept _you_ awake, Benjamin? Do you always prowl the city at this time of night?"

"_You_ try sneaking out when your father's decided to crash out in your room!"

"I would, but – alas – my father is dead."

Normie flicked his wrist to adjust his book, before he turned a page of his book a little too forcefully, and Benjamin felt his frustration rise. It felt as if the older teenager was holding his late arrival against him, even though they _both_ knew that it was a huge risk just to be together for even a moment, and he resented him for being so childish. He felt his heart begin to race, as he puffed out his cheeks and drew in a harsh breath, and – before he knew it – he shot out his webbing and stole Normie's book from him. Normie glared back.

"Look, I have a proposition," said Benjamin.

He looked at the book awkwardly, before he threw the book down on the ground. There was a visible wince from Normie, as he clearly felt disgusted by the slightest mess of even a book out of place, but Benjamin merely exhaled loudly and crossed his arms across his chest. The material of his suit squeaked a little, as he moved, and it was then that he saw Normie smirk in that _infuriating_ way, as if he planned to regain the control somehow or get revenge in some petty way, and Benjamin felt that agonising familiar feeling boil up inside him . . . not knowing whether he wanted to hit Normie or kiss him.

"Interesting," replied Normie. "I didn't know you swung that way."

"F-fuck you, Normie! That's not what I meant and you know it! You – you're being so – so _conceited_ for a guy that – that -! I thought after how I messed up . . . after how my dad went after you . . . we'd finally be able to call ourselves even and start afresh. I – I was _devastated_ when I thought you might die because of me, and I -! I don't appreciate being mocked when I'm _trying_ to do what's right! You – you kissed _me_, anyway!"

"Oh? I remember a certain someone _initiating_ the kiss." Normie clasped his hands together. "It couldn't be that same someone is _insecure_ in themselves to admit that, could it? I mean, I know _I'm_ quite happy to proclaim myself bisexual, but if someone is so _firmly_ in the closet that they can't even admit to _enjoying_ a kiss that_ they_ initiated . . . well!"

"You talk a lot of shit for a guy that can't even move, you bastard!"

"I know what I am. Do you?"

Benjamin saw Normie smirk, as the older teenager realised he struck a nerve. It must have been frustrating for a man so powerful – with such intelligence, money and status – to spend days in the hospital, only to now be confined in his bedroom to rest, and Benjamin _would_ have felt sorry for him, except -! He still didn't know what to _feel_ about Normie. He hated him for what he did, but admired him for who he could become. It was true that they didn't really know each other, whilst now they were absolutely even, and ideally they could start afresh and _truly_ get to know each other, but -! Normie made it so _hard_!

He reached for the book as a gesture of peace. It felt heavy in his hand, whilst the place was lost entirely, and he felt a little guilty about losing Normie's page, even if the other man was the rude one for first ignoring him. Benjamin sighed and walked around the bed, where he placed the book on the bedside table, before he realised that Normie was watching him rather intently, although his head never changed position even once. He even kept his hands clasped upon his boxer-covered lap, with a staggering amount of dignity.

"So . . . you're bi?" Benjamin asked.

"Indeed, so it's safe to say you still have a chance."

It was then that Benjamin realised he was staring _back_. He blushed a violent shade of red and raised a shaking hand to rub at his face, as if he could somehow rub the colour away, but instead he simply took a step back and tried _not_ to look at the brown trail of hair from Normie's belly-button to -. Benjamin scrunched his eyes shut and marched back to the foot of the bed, as he hoped that he honestly wasn't _that_ obvious in his supposedly stolen glances to the other man. He felt . . . he felt _vulnerable_ making his attraction known.

"I don't _want_ a chance," he snapped. "This is platonic."

"Ah, you are so _adorable_ in denial," Normie mocked. "I've been with a couple of women, a man on one occasion, but_ none _of them had your – oh, how shall we say? – _spunk_. You don't just fight the world, but even yourself! _Own_ who you are, else someone else _will_."

"You know what, Normie? You can just go and shove it! You always make those little digs and implied threats, and – you know what? – I'm not putting up with it any longer! I can take you in a fight now and you know it! You want to 'own' me? Fine. Try it! Just see how far you fucking get! It's not that I'm _fighting_ who I am, all right? I just don't _know_ who I am."

Normie turned his head this time. It was an incredibly subtle, yet incredibly powerful, gesture. The slight raising of an eyebrow gave the impression that he was confused, but he didn't appear to be _judging_ Benjamin either. Benjamin looked out of the windows to the dining room below, where he admired the style and design, but Normie wouldn't allow him the moment for reflection . . . he instead coughed to clear his throat, before he then spoke rather slowly and somewhat revealed his disbelief with his words.

"You don't know whether you're . . .?"

"My parents didn't believe in labels," said Benjamin with a shrug. "My father calls himself bi, but he admits it's just because no other label really fits and it's just more convenient for him, whilst I've heard people argue my dad is pan or bi or all sorts, really. I – I learned all about romance and sex and – and stuff, but I . . . I guess I'm gay? L-look, I didn't come here for a – a – a hook-up! I have an honest to God proposal for you that -!"

"I didn't mean to offend you." Normie raised his hands in surrender. "I just find it curious that someone could not fully realise their identity. I promise not to push the issue further, if it makes you uncomfortable. Please, go ahead. You were saying?"

"I – er – I had something I wanted to run by you."

Benjamin tried not to pout. The idea of committing to a sexual identity felt awkward, but _more_ so to be put onto the spot by a man with which he held such a conflicted relationship! He wondered whether it was _normal_ to just – just – just _know_! He adjusted his hands to grip his upper arms, as he issued a heavy sigh, before he gnawed at his lip and sent a curious gaze to Normie, but the older teenager simply clasped his hands again and looked at him with an impassive gaze. It was difficult to read him, but – at least – there was no judgement there.

It was difficult to do what needed to be done, but – eventually – Benjamin reached behind him to fish around in a pouch on his lower back, where he withdrew a rather familiar mask, but one that wasn't his and _was_ Normie's. The green plastic felt cheap and tacky, so that it could have easily have been a children's mask for Halloween, and it half-made Benjamin want to create something _better_, except for the fact it would have been used for crime. Normie stared at the mask with a dark gaze, as he drew in a deep breath, which forced Benjamin's eyes onto his chest and made him swallow hard again, and he snapped his eyes back at the sound of a harsh exhale of breath. Benjamin asked nervously:

"This is yours, right?"

"How did you get that, pray tell?" Normie asked.

"I – er – raided your closet when you were in the shower," admitted Benjamin. "I've never seen a walk-in closet before. Fuck, I don't even think I own even _half_ the clothes that you do, and I fucking design and make clothes for a _hobby_. A-anyway, I took it for a reason! I figured that -! Well -! I'm _interested_ in you, all right? I hate the idea of you feeling so suicidal, but actually _able_ to die, because losing you . . . I think I'd blame myself too much. I don't have any friends, Normie, but neither do you, right?

"I – I thought maybe we could both start anew. We – we could get to know each other for _us_ and not – not for the masks we wear . . . if – if you let me – if you let me destroy the mask, as well as promise to _never_ be the Goblin again, we could – we could be friends, maybe? You – you don't know me and I don't know you, not really, but trust me that this is a big deal for me! I never break rules. _Never_. I'm willing to break them for you, though, so – er – I'll sneak out whenever I can and I'll even spend nights here, and maybe . . . maybe we can hang out and be friends and not _have_ to try and be other people. I – I hope this doesn't sound stupid."

"It doesn't sound stupid at all," said Normie. "I appreciate the sacrifice and risk that it took to bring you here, but I fear your motivations – whilst noble – may lead to disappointment. It may well be that we aren't compatible at all. Friendship can't be forced, Benji. Depression isn't cured with a hug and a kind word, either. You may still cut at your flesh and I still may decide to open a vein in one last attempt . . . what then?"

"We – we help each other." Benjamin bit his lip nervously. "You can have my number, but I'll have yours. It – it'd be like a sponsor or something! Any time we get the urge to be self-destructive, we can call each other up or – or – or something?"

"You're giving a lot of trust to a man with a known history of violence."

"You're not the only person to fuck things up royally."

"Touché, Benjamin."

The smile on Normie's lips was sincere, although there was a slight darkness to it that made it seem as if he were somewhat annoyed. There was a slight twitch to his fingers, which only had the unfortunate effect of drawing attention to . . . well . . . _that_. It was likely unintentional, as Normie appeared to respect his awkwardness around such matters, but Benjamin couldn't help other than to clench on the mask and raise it to his chest, as he fought back the waves of conflict that he felt. The mask reminded him of how Normie hurt him, but seeing Normie so broken and beaten reminded him of another side to the other man.

They remained in an awkward silence for a long while, as Benjamin found his mind wandering and wondered why anyone would put _glass_ on the side of a bedroom, as he questioned to himself the lack of privacy, but Normie appeared to live alone and probably enjoyed living alone. Still, there was another bedroom just behind his, so what if a guest went downstairs to the kitchen and saw something they shouldn't? Benjamin shook his head and made a mental note to always be careful, as he hated the idea of being watched.

It was then that Normie rolled his eyes and made to move, but the pain in his foot caused him to throw back his head and let out a hiss of pain. He pressed his hands on either side of his waist, palms to the sheets, and tried to adjust himself into a more comfortable position, but clearly the throbbing pain wouldn't go so easily. There was a visible sweat on his forehead, as he began to pant a little with the exertion, and he eventually allowed himself to fall back on large and expensive pillows, before he looked to Benjamin for some sort of distraction and perhaps some form of elaboration. He eventually seemed to feel the pain pass, and he smiled in a way that – whilst sincere – appeared very pained.

"This _is_ an interesting proposition," gasped Normie.

"Yeah, but there's one stipulation," muttered Benjamin. "If you so much as _whisper_ the word 'Goblin', I'll hand you over to the cops personally, you hear me? I – I mean it! My friendship hangs on the fact I can _trust_ you, so – so don't betray me, okay?"

"Okay."

Benjamin flinched in sheer surprise. He looked hard at Normie, but the older teenager appeared to struggle to find a comfortable position, and was more intent on adjusting his body than he was in observing Benjamin's reaction. It was frustrating to be ignored again, but the upside was that Normie agreed with absolute sincerity and commitment to his promise. Eventually Normie grew frustrated, albeit it was such a subtle expression of anger that most people would likely not have noticed it, and collapsed back with resignation, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. It must have been frustrating to be laid-up.

"Okay?" Benjamin asked.

"Okay," Normie replied casually. "I agree to your terms."

Benjamin smiled, as he saw Normie lower his head to look up at him. It was a look something akin to disbelief, as if he couldn't believe Benjamin could be so slow, but eventually he shook his head and took back his book from the bedside table, where he flipped through the pages in mild irritation to find his place. It was clear that the conversation was over, but Benjamin was honestly unsure where they now stood and how to proceed forward, but he felt that just leaving would be . . . odd. What did most friends do when alone?

He took a moment to draw in a deep breath, before he decided that it might be best to try spending time with Normie . . . even if it did feel incredibly awkward. It was then that he walked around the bed and sat on the opposite side to Normie, as he shoved the mask back into his pouch to later destroy, even as he felt the incredible sense of vulnerability at being the side closest to the floor-to-ceiling windows along the one wall. There was a cough from Normie, followed by a rolling of his healthy foot, as if he were just _coincidentally_ stretching it for comfort, until a look was cast to Benjamin's still booted feet, and – with a heavy set of swears – he pulled off his boots to lie on the bed.

"Well, if we're hanging out . . . where's the television?"

"I do not have one," said Normie calmly. "You are more than welcome to watch something through the laptop or a tablet, but some of us prefer reading to watching some mediocre programming dictate the visual imagery of a story and the pacing."

"You're such a fucking intellectual snob," Benjamin snapped. "Okay, fine, if we're just going to spend our first night hanging out _reading_ together, I can deal with that. I have to admit that being silent with someone else is pretty weird. Awkward silence? Is that what it's called? Hey, I could buy you a radio! Radios are good! Are you ignoring me? All right, fine, I can take a hint! Do you have any books that _I'd_ be interested in?"

"I believe there is a children's bookstore just one block down."

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

There was a devilish smirk on Normie's lips, even as he turned the page and refused to look up from his book, and Benjamin felt as if the older teenager were holding back on barely constrained laughter. It was a few seconds later that Normie closed his book and placed it on his lap, before he turned his head to look at Benjamin with a smile. Benjamin blushed awkwardly. He had taken to lying flat on his back, with hands underneath his head for support, only a few inches from Normie, whilst Normie continued to sit upright and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. It was so difficult to get a read on him!

"Very well, then let us converse," said Normie.

"Really! Awesome. Let's get talking!"

The tension and awkwardness felt broken, enough that Benjamin jumped into a sitting position and sat cross-legged opposite Normie, as he bore a bright smile of excitement and sheer hope, and he couldn't help but feel his heart race a little at the prospect of _finally_ having someone to _talk_ with and spend _time_ with, even if Normie was so damned infuriating! Benjamin began to fidget a little with his hands, as he tried to think of something to say, but Normie only continued to stare at him expectantly.

"Er, do you want to – you know – start?"

"On second thoughts," said Normie.

"I hate you, Normie."

Normie laughed, before he reached out to place a hand on Benjamin's knee. It was difficult to tell whether the gesture was the platonic sort that Benjamin encouraged or something more intimate, but – when Benjamin thought back – he remembered similar touches from his parents and relatives, only -! They didn't _squeeze_ or _linger_, did they? It felt – it felt _far_ too intimate, which forced him to look away to the side with another blush. Normie laughed in good humour and pulled his hand away with a shake of his head.

"No," said Normie. "You don't hate me."

"You're right," he replied. "I don't."

Normie smiled.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Benjamin looked curiously . . .

The first floor looked surprisingly empty. It meant that – as he stepped out from the stairwell – Normie could be in only one of two places: the library or the kitchen. The layout of the first floor was essentially one long room, in which a small lounge-cum-library sat at the far end and a dining room sat at the opposite end, next to where Benjamin stood. The balcony doors were between the two 'rooms' and the elevator was in an alcove opposite. There was a separate seating area through an open door to Benjamin's right, just off the dining room.

He didn't think Normie would be in the library this time of the morning, which was just off the separate seating area, but that only left the kitchen opposite the dining room, in which the wall had been knocked through for an open plan. Benjamin turned around to look up through the bedroom windows, but he saw nothing. It always made him feel so _awkward_ walking around the apartment without Normie, as everything felt so expensive that just _looking_ at the furniture felt almost like vandalism, and he . . . he felt as if he didn't quite belong. Hell, it was all so – so _impersonal_, too, like a show room more than a home!

It took a second to jump the last step onto the floorboards, which felt cold under his bare feet, and sent a wave of appreciation for home . . . even if May and Peter fought about curfew, or Wade left the kitchen looking like a disaster zone, or Preston came by _way_ too early . . . at least they had _carpets_! _Shit_, it was too early to be awake! He resented his boyfriend for childishly setting an alarm for him, but drew in a breath to try and calm down, as he rubbed his eyes and spun around to walk into the kitchen adjacent to the stairwell.

He looked for the most maddening person he knew: Normie.

The older man sat on the first of three barstools, where he sipped what looked like coffee, and flicked through a newspaper. He wore a long dressing gown that Benjamin _knew_ was the only thing keeping his modesty, and that thought made Benjamin blush a little, as he came around the bar and noisily wrenched out the items he needed to make cereal. It felt a bit childish to make such noise, but – frankly – he was a little offended that Normie felt the urge to wake him, as if he were a child that needed to be up in time for school! Eventually Benjamin slammed his bowl onto the bar, took a seat at the far end, and cursed as milk spilled.

"Why the fuck did you set an alarm?" Benjamin snapped.

"The early bird catches the worm," said Normie.

"Yeah, well, you won't get getting my worm after that fucking stunt."

Normie smirked over his coffee, as he lazily turned a page of the newspaper. It was infuriating how he could _always_ look so in control and so blasé about life, so that it was as if Benjamin were nothing but background noise, and it made Benjamin want to _do_ something to get his attention . . . even if that was likely what Normie wanted. Well, he wasn't going to _give_ his boyfriend the satisfaction of a reaction! He began to eat as noisily as possible.

"Well," said Normie. "I would have compared it more to a _python_ than a _worm_."

Benjamin choked on his cereal, although Normie only continued to smirk and flicked away a speck of milk from his paper. It took longer than he liked to regain his breathing, even as he realised _what_ Normie said to him, and suddenly the embarrassment of choking was replaced with a whole new embarrassment! He looked with absolute horror to Normie, as he felt his cheeks warm with an inevitable blush, and – out of an awkward instinct – he pulled his legs up onto a bar of the stool and dropped his arm into his lap, as he tried to hide _that_ from sight.

"I fucking hate you!"

"You say that so often," teased Normie. "You may give me a complex."

"L-look! You – you can't make those kinds of – of – of comments! I – I don't -! _Fuck_! It's not as though I'm used to – to talking about . . . _that_ . . . so just -! I don't know, Normie! I thought we had this conversation before? Can't you just . . . stop it?"

"Oh, but you're so adorable bathed in red. Even your body blushes beautifully."

"S-shut up! Seriously! You fucking woke me up to tease me?"

"No, but seeing you so distressed is a bonus."

It was then that Normie angled his head in a subtle gesture, so that he could look sideways to Benjamin and see his boyfriend properly. This time, there was no way to hide his embarrassment. Benjamin felt so . . . so _exposed_ . . . it was their first morning together since they began their friendship three months ago, and Benjamin – without a change of clothes – resorted to wearing an old shirt and pair of shorts that belonged to Normie. They fit him rather well, now he bulked out and took care of himself, and it felt strange to think that a year ago these clothes would have _dropped_ off him. He changed more than he liked.

"Shirts suit you," said Normie.

"Okay, seriously, I'm not a fucking morning person," snapped Benjamin. "Why did you rig the alarm to wake me up? My parents won't be back off their weekend away until this afternoon; I've got like – what – eight hours to get back?"

"Ah, now we come to the crux of the issue." Normie turned back to his paper. "I thought we would need time to discuss an issue of some import, but clearly you would rather insult me and pout in your corner. Tell me, do you ever intend to work on your maturity? You dedicate such time to improving your muscles and strength, but – tragically – you seem to rather wallow in crude curses than to talk to your boyfriend. Six weeks and still no trust?"

"I trust you. I trust you to keep my secrets. I trust you to let you . . . ah . . . _do_ things. I trust you to never go back to crime, just as I trust you to be a good guy and faithful to me, and I trust you to . . . to . . . to be _nice_ to me. I never really had that outside of family. I – er – I mean -! It wasn't that I had a bad childhood, you know? Still, outside of a _really_ shitty incident, it was like I just didn't _exist_ around other children. None of them wanted to play, at school they picked on me . . . I trust you to not make me feel like they did . . .

"Still, don't fucking call me immature or accuse me of not trusting you! Do I trust you with the big shit? Yeah, I fucking do! Do I trust you not to pull _idiotic_ pranks? No. You're like -! You're like a child sometimes! You smirk in your corner and make stupid jokes, but expect me not to get annoyed! I – I _swear_ sometimes you do it _just_ to annoy me! Well, _fine_, you go play your games, but _not at fucking seven a.m._, okay?"

"Very well, I apologise." Normie's expression turned cold. "I hope you realise that I did not set the alarm just to purposely 'mess' with you, but more instead that I thought it important for you to wake in a constructive manner so that we could talk properly. This is important."

"You fucking _hid_ the alarm in the _closet_. You did that to 'constructively' wake me?"

"Ah, that. No, _that_ was just me messing with you."

"You fucking, mother-hugging -!"

Benjamin threw his spoon into the bowel, but with such force that the clatter caused Normie to wince and sent milk everywhere. It caused Benjamin to curse again, until he turned around and wrung his hands in frustration, and – as he tried to work out what Normie gained from such behaviour – the older man reached into his dressing gown and pulled out an envelope. He raised his hand and let it fall in an overly dismissive and dramatic manner, as if the contents disgusted him and were not worthy of holding, and it fell with a splatter into a small puddle of milk on the table. Benjamin lifted it by a corner. It dripped.

"What's this?"

"It came today," said Normie. "Open it."

He let out a harsh exhale of breath and tore open the envelope. There were simply three photographs inside, although each of which appeared more intimate than the last. All three were of the balcony . . . the first was of Benjamin in just his boxers, as he looked out at the boats on the water with a smile, whilst the second featured Normie slipping behind him bare-chested, and the third was most intimate of all. Normie's hands were wrapped around his waist, as Benjamin reached behind him to stroke his neck and leaned back for a deep kiss.

It would have been a rather beautiful shot, if it weren't such a . . . violation. Benjamin swallowed hard and let his fingertips trace over the pictures, as he remembered the sound of laughter from them both, as well as how it felt to laugh during the kiss, and how Normie whispered compliments into his ear and asked whether he wanted to go inside. They – they hadn't been _intimate_ for very long . . . friends for three months, dating for six weeks, and physical only for two . . . Benjamin felt as if they were moving too fast, so Normie slowed down in response, and – well – he doubted Normie was responsible for the photos.

"Who – who took them?"

"A reporter," said Normie with a sigh. "They will appear in tomorrow's _Daily Bugle_, unless a payment is made of ninety-thousand dollars. It was a rather amusing phone call. I suspect that she actually thinks I would give in to her demands."

"W-wait . . . w-what? You – you aren't paying them?"

"Do you think I should?"

Normie looked offended. He dropped his newspaper completely, before he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face Benjamin properly. It was enough to make Benjamin feel somewhat awkward, but – even as he looked behind Normie to the cabinets – he couldn't avoid the penetrating feel of that stare. The moment between them felt as if it would never end, until Benjamin looked back upon him and felt somewhat embarrassed that he put Normie in such a position. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again.

The truth was that he blamed himself that Normie was in this predicament. He came each night to Normie's apartment even with Wade's threat looming over them, just as he wandered onto the balcony even though they knew that the press watched Normie like a hawk . . . the downside to being rich and famous . . . still, didn't Normie know the risks? It – it felt wrong to try and appropriate blame, but Benjamin felt as if he hadn't much right to ask Normie to give into blackmail, not least when it was partially his fault, and plus . . . he _hated_ hiding their relationship. Eventually they would need to come out anyway, right?

"I – I don't know," said Benjamin.

"I am not ashamed of our relationship," Normie replied. "I would add that it makes little sense to give in to blackmail, as it would only encourage them to attempt further extortion at a later date. I do not wish for people to continually try to force my hand out of a misguided belief that I will pay any demand made against me, but should keeping these photographs out of the press mean that much to you . . . well, the choice is ultimately yours."

"D-don't fucking word it like that! You make it sound like some sort of ultimatum or secret test of character or – or something! Like I'm somehow embarrassed by you or not serious about us, if I want to keep the world from finding out . . . it's – it's not like that!"

"Tell me, Benji, what is it like? You seem more upset than I anticipated."

"Maybe because my parents will see this and think we're -!"

"That we're . . . what? A couple?"

Benjamin saw the fury in Normie's expression, which made him feel an incredible amount of guilt that almost consumed him. It was clear that Normie – as much as he tried to always remain stoic and disinterested – had given a _considerable_ amount of trust to Benjamin, even going so far as to let himself become emotionally involved with someone for perhaps the first time, so that their relationship was more than just physical. Benjamin didn't want Normie to feel that their relationship was based on a lie, or that his first real friend was simply using him or ashamed of him, but -! Benjamin sighed and settled on honesty:

"No, that they'll think we're having – having . . . sex."

He bit his lip nervously and felt himself blush. It was almost impossible to look at his boyfriend, because the whole discussion of _intimacy_ was still too uncomfortable to have, but he realised that _eventually_ they would need to have it. They trusted each other, so it shouldn't have been so awkward, but giving words to something so private . . . Benjamin scrunched his eyes shut and let out an exhale of breath. He eventually looked back up and saw Normie raise an eyebrow and look at him with sheer disbelief. It made Benjamin curl in on himself.

"You'll have to explain," said Normie. "We _are_ having sex, aren't we?"

"N-no! W-we're – we're not! I – I mean – t-that's just -!"

"Interesting. So oral sex and digital penetration –?"

"D-don't say the words! T-that's not sex!"

Benjamin spun around and raised his feet onto the edge of the stool. It was enough that he could bury his face into his knees, and then used his arms to hide his head from sight, as he tried to breathe deeply to calm himself. He felt a little light-headed, but more frustrated than embarrassed. It – it took all his confidence and trust just to be able to _do_ those things, but he still had trouble _processing_ what he was doing and how he felt about it, and the _last_ thing he wanted was to _talk_ about them! Normie _knew_ this, too!

"Wonderful," said Normie. "I'm dating a 'technical virgin'."

It was enough to make Benjamin turn his head just enough to look out from under his forearms, where he glared at his boyfriend darkly. Normie merely stared back with an expression impossible to read, before he folded his hands carefully and placed them on his lap, where he rolled his eyes in a way that _really_ made Benjamin want to strike him. This time he was _certain_ that Normie was mocking him, which would have been frustrating enough at the best of times, but when this was their _future_ on the line . . . it felt ten times worse. Benjamin suddenly felt a chill and felt uncomfortable.

"Look, this is serious!"

"Oh, evidently," said Normie. "People expect celibacy from today's youth."

"You – you don't live at _home_, Normie! I _do_! Even if – even if I can get my parents to _not_ freak out about us dating, how do you think they'll react to seeing those photos? If they go with the 'our house, our rules' approach . . . I'm still an _unpaid_ intern, Normie! Until I pass my Regents, Tony refuses to pay a dime to anything except tuition! I – I'd end up on the streets and -! It's not so easy to come out when you know . . ."

"It's far too early for us to move in together," replied Normie with a sigh. "Still, if it came to that, I wouldn't mind you staying here on a _temporary_ basis. I could even offer you a paid position in Oscorp so you could rent an apartment on your terms. You would be fine."

"That – that's great, but I'd still rather not _alienate_ my parents."

"You don't imagine them as supportive?"

Normie looked to Benjamin questioningly, before he stood up and took the cup and bowl over to the sink, whereby he began to busy himself by cleaning them both. It always seemed strange to Benjamin that his boyfriend held a need to clean everything _immediately_, but there was something oddly nice about seeing Normie in a more domestic setting, and – as he leaned his head on his knees and watched him clean – he was reminded of his parents. He smiled as he remembered how Wade would come behind Peter whenever he washed up, only to pepper him with kisses and hug him tightly. It was the kind of relationship he wanted.

Still, _could_ they be supportive? He knew his parents loved him unconditionally, but they also wanted what was best for him . . . Wade held such a black-and-white mentality, so he would likely still see Normie as some sort of villain, and he wasn't sure how he would convince his dad otherwise. It was possible that Peter could convince Wade, but his father hadn't been well lately and he felt an immense guilt about causing him stress at a time like this, but – on the other side of things – Peter _had_ been a lot more patient of late, so that Benjamin actually felt loved and appreciated by _both_ parents now. It would be better to tell them himself, rather than for them to find out in the papers. He hoped it would work in his favour.

Benjamin jumped as he felt arms around him, before he turned and found himself caught in a chaste and loving kiss. He pulled back to see Normie sit on the stool next to him, although his gown fell open slightly with the tie loosened, and it forced Benjamin to look away to preserve Normie's modesty, even_ if_ Normie always seemed unnaturally confident about his body. It took Benjamin only a moment to sit properly, before he reached out to take Normie's hand in his and let them rest on his knee, as Normie gave a small smile back at him.

"I guess I won't know unless I call them, huh?"

"That is true," said Normie. "If it helps, my mother is quite excited to meet you."

"Yeah, er, can we postpone that? My parents are back today and – well – I really think I should tell them about us before they find out from the papers. We could do it tomorrow, instead? I – I mean, if she's not busy . . . maybe?"

"You don't want me to stop the photographs?"

Benjamin squeezed his hand tightly. It was enough to ground him for a moment, as he seriously considered the ramifications of those photographs printing. There would be a great deal of awkwardness and arguments from his family, but he was mostly sure that he could make them come around, and it was better than the alternative. He didn't want to keep his relationship with Normie hidden, especially when they were gradually making progress, and – well – it seemed worth the risk. He let out an exhale of breath and smiled.

"Not if you don't," said Benjamin.

"So you want to make this official?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Normie rolled his eyes, before he reached out and placed a kiss on Benjamin's cheek, which caused the younger man to blush and pout. It was something that Normie found adorable, as at once he laughed and stood up to walk away, before Benjamin found the courage to grab him by the wrist and pull him back. There was an awkward moment between them, as Normie looked down – as if to dare Benjamin to act – and Benjamin glared back with a mixture of frustration and desire. He hated how Normie could make him feel so many conflicting emotions, but he loved him for it, too . . .

"Oh? Was that you being romantic?" Normie teased.

"We – we have eight hours free, right?"

"So you'll _show_ me 'romantic'?"

He said those words with a smile that was equal parts devilish and curiosity, and it forced Benjamin onto his feet in an attempt to gain equal footing, as he drew himself up to full height and tried to force back a pout, but – already – Normie was walking backwards to the stairwell. There was a subtle glance up to the bedroom, before the gown was dropped and Normie disappeared from sight, leaving only the memory of his body behind. Benjamin swallowed hard and tried not to _run_ as he followed.

"I really do hate you!" Benjamin shouted.

'_No, you don't,'_ came the reply.

"No . . . I don't."

Benjamin smiled and followed quickly.


End file.
